


I'm Left with Just One Thing to Do

by redhotkittypepper



Series: Helping The Murphys [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alana and Jared sacrifice Evan for #science, Alana is a BAMF, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cigarettes, Crossover, Dubious Science, Evan Hansen's bleeding heart, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Lies, M/M, Mountain Dew Red, Poor Connor, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, TW: canon-typical mention of suicide and self harm, Time Travel, bmc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhotkittypepper/pseuds/redhotkittypepper
Summary: Using an illegal supercomputer, Alana and Jared help Evan reorder time in an effort to save Connor Murphy.





	1. Anything to Make you Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 begins right after "For Forever" in canon. I suggest listening to the demo songs "Little Bit of Light" and "In the Bedroom Down the Hall" in order for this to make sense. This will be a multi-chapter work--I have a plan, don't worry! 
> 
> Plot inspired by this quote: 
> 
> There’s no such things as a small act of kindness. Every  
> act creates a ripple with no logical end. --Scott Adams

The Murphy’s offered to drive him home but Evan needed a walk to clear his head. He had started sweating half way through dinner and every time Mrs Murphy asked him a question his face got hotter. 

Why had he lied? 

He hadn’t known Connor; they weren’t best friends. Up until last Monday Evan was pretty sure Connor didn’t know he existed beyond the vague way you know someone who went to school with you since kindergarten. 

'Dear Evan Hansen, that’s you, right?' 

No, Connor didn’t know who he was. The only reason Evan knew Connor Murphy was because of Zoe.

Zoe, who glared at him mistrustfully across the table; Zoe, his reason for being. 

But Mrs Murphy was crying—sobbing—and Evan knew what that felt like and he hated to see someone else falling apart. So he lied.

'End of May or early June….'

Evan rubbed his face. His shirt smelled like the Murphy’s house—vanilla, Bounce sheets, and Mrs Murphy’s perfume. God, Evan had never been hugged so much in his life. She clung to him, as if by pulling him closer she could fill the boy shaped hole in her heart. 

Evan didn’t like to be touched but hugging Mrs Murphy felt like a civic duty. 

 

He didn’t head straight home. 

It was a twenty-minute walk from Maple street to Evan’s house and he wandered. Low, behind the trees and the houses, the sun was slipping away. The streets were washed in burning yellow. 

Houses in this part of town were nicer than Evan could have dreamed; families lived here.

He found the park just where she said it would be; on the corner of Maple and Cherry tucked behind a row of poplars. The dying light threw long shadows on the trees. 

Late as it was, Evan was dismayed to find the park empty. It was a place he would have loved as a kid; slides and a sandbox and big happy trees. He found a bench next to the swing-set that faced the trees, and sat with his arm tucked against his body, aching. 

'So, how’d you break your arm?' 

His mind strayed again and again to that day—the last time he saw Connor alive. 

The computer lab had smelled like stale pizza and Connor had smelled like smoke and Evan, try as he might, couldn’t stop stuttering. 

No, no, no, I really need that back so please can you just can you just give it back?!! 

Had Evan been faster he could have caught up with Connor; had he been tougher he would have wrestled the letter out of his hands; had he been….well, anything other than small and sweating and lame. Everything would have been different. God, how he wished things were different. 

Something cold stirred in Evan’s guts when he thought about that letter. He tried not to think about it but his nose was full of vanilla, Bounce sheets, and... 

'I don't remember the last time I heard him laugh.' 

Was it worth it?

'All I can think about is how hard he would slam that bedroom door, every night after dinner.' 

Wasn’t it better than the unbearable truth? 

Nobody had ever looked at Evan as if he could save them; nobody ever hung on his every word like everything he said mattered.  
It was addictive. 

And there was Mrs Murphy, crying, holding Connor’s sweater and telling Evan she wished everything were different….

Lying to the Murphy’s was the second easiest thing he’d ever done. 

All he had to do was let go.


	2. The Insanely Cool Jared Kleinman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared has an idea....and somehow it's worse than canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where we diverge from canon because Jared has something a little more up his sleeve than just backdating emails. Or he knows someone who does. 
> 
> *obviously the lines from canon are not mine; all credit goes to Levenson et al*

Evan couldn’t see how this day could get worse, but Jared could. “His parents think you were lovers. You do realize that, right?” 

A cold stone dropped in Evan’s stomach. He sat crossed-legged on his bed, hands hidden in his sleeves. Jared kept talking. 

“You were best friends, but he wouldn’t let you talk to him at school? And when you did, he kicked your ass? That’s like the exact formula for secret gay high school lovers.” Somehow, Jared was the expert on such things. “This is why I told you – what did I tell you? You just nod and confirm.”

Evan’s head felt miles away from his body, he grappled for something to say. 

“I tried to. I just, you don’t understand, I got nervous and I started talking and once I started, I just..” 

Evan trailed off. 

Jared crossed his leg over the other and snapped open a can of Fresca. “You couldn’t stop.”

The stone hit bottom. “They didn’t want me to stop.”

Jared took a long and meaningful swig of his drink. Evan’s heart had moved to his throat, he could barely breathe. 

Jared sighed. “So what else did you completely fuck up?”

“Nothing. Seriously…. I mean I told them we wrote emails”

“Emails.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, gaining confidence. “I told them Connor and I, Connor had a secret email account…” 

“Oh, right. One of those ‘secret’ email accounts. Sure. For sending pictures of your penises to each other.”

Evan’s face got suddenly hot; he pressed on. 

“Yeah and so I said, he had this secret account, and we would send emails to each other.”

“I mean, honestly? Could you be any worse at this?”

Evan blinked slowly. Jared’s shiny face was peering at him intently through the screen. It hit him like a sucker punch. Oh, God. “They’re going to want to see our emails!”

“Oh! You think?” Jared was howling with laughter. 

“What am I going to do?”

Jared regained some of his composure and leaned forward into the webcam as if reading Evan’s face. He sat back, “I might know how to fix this.”

“How?”

Jared was still thinking, leaning forward with that hawk-like expression that, in Evan’s experience, usually preceded a really bad idea. “It all started with that letter, didn’t it?”

“Uh yeah. I mean kind of..”

“You could even say you wish you’d never written it to begin with. If you’d never run into Connor last Monday he wouldn’t have that letter—wouldn’t have it in his pocket when he offed himself…you’d be in the clear, right? No ties between you and the Murphys without that letter...”

Evan got the sense Jared was talking more to himself and had left Evan far behind. 

“What does that even mean?”

“I just need you to answer a very potentially life-altering question before I tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Evan.” Jared was suddenly deadly serious. He never called Evan by name. “Evan, do you promise.”

Evan squirmed a little. “Promise what?”

“Just promise me.” Jared’s face was so close Evan saw the webcam reflecting in his prescription lenses. 

“Okay… I promise.”

Jared narrowed his eyes. “Do you promise not to freak out?”

“I don’t know if I can really promise that, Jared.”

“I need you to trust me.”

Evan stared at the screen for a long moment. “I do. I wish none of this ever happened”

Jared cackled. “Well, my little acorn, this might just be your lucky day. Meet me at the corner of Sycamore Street in twenty minutes. And bring me two grand.”

“Two …two thousand dollars?”

“Five hundred”

“I can give you twenty.”

“Fine. But you’re a dick.”

 

The resounding voice of reason in Evan’s head was shouting on repeat: Could you be any worse at this? 

He liked to think of Jared as his friend, but he knew that wasn’t really true. Jared didn’t do favours—for anyone—why should Evan be the exception? 

Evan thought about Mrs Murphy clutching that letter in the principal’s office, she must have read it dozens of times, Evan knew that he had. 

But it was hers now; the damage was done. 

What the hell could Jared Kleinman do about it? 

 

As it turned out, it wasn’t Jared who he needed to convince.


	3. It's From Japan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enter the supercomputer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to be more sci-fi than I initially intended....but I'm okay with that.

How Alana got the keys to the Engineering building, Evan never figured out. 

Murray Hall was built in the sixties out of old limestone and was farther off-campus than the rest of the Science faculty. 

Evan shivered in the warm September wind; Alana was locking up her parent’s Prius in the deserted parking lot. 

Jared kicked a chunk of asphalt and jammed his hands in his pockets. 

“How’d you get past your mom?” Jared asked. 

Evan swallowed. “Well um, I told her the truth. I told her I was with you.”

Jared grinned and punched Evan in the arm. “I always forget what a good liar you are under pressure.”

Evan rubbed his arm and searched for something to say. Alana rushed over just then and gave them both a nervous look. 

“Oh my God. I can’t believe we are doing this. But you know, Evan, I am really proud of you. Even if this doesn’t work at least we will all know that we tried, right? That’s what counts—we tried to save Connor.”

Evan didn’t know how to respond to that. Jared winked at Evan. 

 

The door around the back of the building was industrial grey and blooming with rust spots.   
The key fit like a lie. 

Alana led them down a flight of metal stairs and through a fogged-glass door. The whole place reminded Evan of a hospital…or an asylum.   
Cold, too-bright, and empty. 

There were sections of the building redone in crisp drywall where they dug the asbestos out. Jared kept trying the knobs of all the doors they passed, rattling them, peering in the narrow windows. 

“Don’t make so much noise, Jared!” 

Under the harsh fluorescents, Alana’s normally curious gaze was piercing. Evan was having considerably trouble breathing. 

The lab was cold and dark, but Alana seemed confident; she hit a switch by the door and six pairs of hanging lamps snapped on overhead. 

They were in the basement and tiny windows laid with thick glass let in the moonlight. It glinted on stainless steel tables and caught the sheen on the water tank in the middle of the room. Evan had a terrible feeling he was going to have to get in the tank; at least the water looked clean, if slightly blueish and freezing. 

Alana heaved her backpack on one of the tables and started pulling bales of electrical wire out and uncoiling it. 

“Jared, help me with this.”

Electrodes came next. Then something that looked to Evan like a crash helmet. Then a manual as thick as his head. 

“So,” he ventured. “What exactly are we doing?”

Alana looked up and blinked at him. 

“Didn’t Jared tell you?”

Evan shrank, hands disappearing into his sleeves. “Uh, not –”

Jared shook out one of the bales of cable and smacked Evan in the shins. He chuckled. 

“I didn’t think he’d believe it without seeing it first,” he said, looking sheepishly at Alana. “I know I sure didn’t.”

Alana sighed and picked up the crash helmet.

“Evan, see if this fits your head. And I’ll explain it as best I can.”

Evan caught the helmet and held it gingerly, then lowered it onto his skull and snapped the clasp shut under his chin. 

Alana wasted no time and started plugging cables into the modules placed all around the helmet. She spoke while she hooked each cable into place with a click. 

“I told you I had a productive summer,” she began. “I did-”

“Three internships and 90 hours of community service,” said Jared. “We know.”

“Well, what I didn’t tell you was who the internships were with,” she said, huffily. 

“I was a junior research assistant to Dr Baron in the physics lab and mostly it was boring because all he wanted me to do was organize his old papers and dissertations. But while I was filing them I couldn’t help but reading some of his theories—I don’t how much you guys know about physics…” 

She paused long enough for Evan and Jared to give her blank stares.

“…anyway, one of his papers was this grant request to some university in Kyoto…you know, Japan…no? okay…and it got rejected but it was still super interesting and the equipment list wasn’t even that long and all the theoretical principles checked out so I thought….”

Jared gave a theatrical sigh.

“What the nerd is trying to say is that she invented time travel.”

“I was getting there, Jared!”

“Yeah, like the slow march of time.” 

Evan cleared his throat. “I’m lost.”

Alana grabbed the manual and walked over to the tank. 

Behind it was a row of complicated looking computer banks; she flipped the power bar and the bank of hard-drives came to life, blinking yellow, yellow, yellow, green. 

“This,” she said, gesturing to the blinking beeping wall, “is a supercomputer. An old one, it’s been sitting here since 2002, but it’s still more than we need. And with Dr Baron’s work, we can finally use it. This, Evan, is what I did this summer.”

“You, you built a time machine.”

“Well. No, it’s not really a time machine it’s more like a time simulator. We can’t actually go anywhere but we can theoretically reorder time, things that have already happened. We can view the past as if it hasn’t happened yet. I know: wow!”

“Do I want to know how you figured this out?”

Jared clapped Evan on the shoulder. “Do you have eight hours and an extensive knowledge of the theory of relativity? No? Then, no.”

Alana beamed. 

****  
Alana locked the door and turned the face the boys. “You gave your parents a good alibi, right?” 

Jared smirked. “You need to calm down.” 

“I’m serious. Once we start, we can’t stop until we’re done. We can’t just go in and mess a bunch of stuff up. Evan, Jared told me you have a plan.”

Evan blinked. 

“A plan? Well, yeah, I guess I have--”

“You should put a plastic bag over your cast, too.” Alana gave him a stern look and said, “You’re the one who saw Connor last, you’ve got the freshest memories. You’re going in the tank.” 

“Oh, great.” 

Evan had never felt so small. 

The water wasn’t as cold as it looked, but it reminded Evan of antifreeze. 

He stripped down to his boxers—blue plaid—and sat shivering on the edge of the tank while Alana strapped more wires onto his head. 

Jared stood behind the monitor of the massive computer wall, hands flying over the command board. 

Alana handed him a breathing mask. Evan hesitated. 

“You guys have done this before, right?”

Alana pushed her glasses up on her nose. 

“No, but in theory, it will all be fine. And anyway, Evan, this is the most selfless deed anyone has ever done. Even if you die in this tank, I’ll make sure everyone knows what a great friend you were to try and save Connor.”

“Oh, great. Thanks”

Alana pressed something gooey and cold into his ear. 

Evan yelped. 

“It’s your earpiece. So we can talk to you while you’re under.”

“We’re good to go down here!” 

Jared had his glasses pushed up on his head like goggles and was giving them a thumbs up. 

Alana gave Evan a too-wide smile. 

“That’s your cue. Good luck.”

Evan scooted to the edge of the tank and took one, two deep breaths before sliding the mask over his face. 

Then he let go and sank into the blue water. 

He caught a glimpse of Jared at the console through the rippling water, a blurry smudge of red and grey. 

Then over the earpiece, Alana said, “Okay, Evan, we’re gonna close the shield now.”

“Whaaaa--?” His protests were lost in bubbles. 

Shield? 

A great rattling hum shook the tank and from either side, thick metal curtains closed over the glass. 

Darkness, blacker than a nightmare, closed over Evan’s head. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. 

He saw bubbles race by his eyes but had no memory of screaming. 

Then a soft light emerged from the edge of his vision. Soft and yellow and growing stronger. 

He closed his eyes and let the light swallow him up. 

“Here we go, Evan. No turning back now.”


	4. What a Day, What a Lovely Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan walks through the events of Sept 9th, 2015 -- first day of senior year. The Murphys make an entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: I don't hate Zoe, I'm just trying to make her realistic. It's important to remember Original Connor was most likely an asshole--a redeemable one but still. More to be revealed.

September 9th, 2015 

Once, as a small child, Evan was asleep in the car when his father lost control of the wheel. It was raining, it was late at night, and Evan woke to the sensation of falling, his stomach leaping up his throat, choking him. He heard a blistering crash and blinking light flooded his eyelids, red, blue, red, blue. And then he heard no more and saw nothing. He woke up in his own bed with his mom leaning over him, and a terrible headache. 

When the darkness swallowed him up, Evan fell again. Faster this time through a tunnel of dreams and half-formed memories. His teeth ached, and his head pounded, and he felt blood thundering at his temples. 

He fell,

and fell. 

And then something rose to meet him. 

He’d never seen it like this before, but the school was smaller than he thought. Just four wings jutting off in an x shape, and one outbuilding where there used to be a greenhouse. He heard some juniors burned it down last year. 

The pavement under his sneakers was spongey. Evan looked down; like peering off a Ferris wheel the ground swam up to meet him. He tried to move his fingers but saw only the ghostly image of a hand that might have been his shimmer before him. 

“I’m not really here, am I?”

Sudden warmth filled his ear. “No, Evan. This is a memory. You can observe but your effect here is minimal. If there’s something you want me to change you have to tell me.”

Alana. God, her voice was like a lifeboat. 

“So, I guess whatever you did is working?”

“You fucking guessed it!” 

Jared. The reason he jumped in the water in the first place. 

Evan tried to rub his face but felt nothing but cold air. 

“Try not to move so much. You don’t want to pull a wire.”

Right. Evan looked around. 

 

It was early morning, there were a few students milling around the parking lot and a few more at the steps to the school. He didn’t recognise anyone…this wasn’t anything he remembered living….and then he saw it. 

A silver SUV pulled into one of the student parking spots and Zoe Murphy stepped out. She had her hair down and wore a purple peasant blouse; her backpack and guitar she pulled from the hatchback. Evan instinctively moved towards her. 

The wind caught a tendril of hair and cast it across her face as she turned to sling her guitar over her shoulder. Evan was watching her disentangle her hair from her glossed lips when a dark head emerged from the other side of the SUV. 

“Alana, I don’t understand. This isn’t my memory.” 

“Yes, it is. You’re now seeing everything that happened outside your perspective, this is everything you missed when you were limited by your own observations…but Evan this isn’t about you, we’re looking for—”

“Connor!” Zoe said, one hand on the top of the hatchback. “Get out of the way.” 

Evan whirled, very narrowly missing Zoe’s shoulder. Leaning on the bumper of the SUV was Connor Murphy, bag thrown over his shoulder, hair spilling across his white face. 

Zoe was pissed. “God, you are high, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you, Zoe. I don’t need your moral superiority talk right now.” 

“Wow. Great start you’re off to already.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not even trying, Connor!” she hissed. “You promised Mom you would at least—but, you. You still act like a fucking freak all the time.”

Connor paled, then his cheeks reddened like he’d been slapped. 

Zoe lowered her voice. “You have no idea what’s it’s like sometimes being your sister. It’s like you’re never going to grow up.” 

She turned on her heel, not waiting for a reply, and stormed off towards to gym doors. Connor, grave and bleary-eyed, watched her go. A grimace passed over his face and he scrubbed at his eyes then tilted his head back, letting whatever was trying to come out drip back down his throat. 

Evan heard him mutter, “What a great fucking start.” 

Then Connor stood up and, slamming the hatchback, stalked off towards the front doors. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Evan whispered. 

The pause on the other end was breathless. 

“Yeah,” Jared said finally. “I did.”


	5. Will I Ever be More Than I've Always Been?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan tries to stop a metaphorical car wreck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse here of the catalyst to Connor's downward spiral -- I'm trying to make him worthy of empathy--and will build on this theme in coming chapters. As the meme goes: I'm saying he deserved better, not that he did nothing wrong.

Evan followed Connor at a distance. It was strange to walk down A-Hall, the same hall he walked yesterday, and feel nothing. No panic, no numbness, no shortness of breath. 

Just….disinterest. 

God, this is how normal people must feel. He could get used to this. 

At B-Hall, Connor paused. 

“What’s he waiting for? His locker is all the way in D-Hall,” Alana said. 

Jared said, “What time is it.”

Evan glanced up at the digital clock mounted above the water fountain. “Uh, 8:12.”

“Evan where are you right now?”

“Wha-? Oh. That me. Well, I mean...I guess I’m...talking to you outside homeroom?”

Alana chimed in, frantic. “Evan, go to your homeroom. We need to see this.”

B-Hall, Room 247. Evan could hear Jared--past Jared--before he saw him. And there, lurking next to the bulletin boards, was Connor. Evan stepped closer. The redness hadn’t faded from Connor’s checks, he looked queasy. 

A few metres away, Jared laughed and punched Evan in the arm. 

“Hey. Tell your mom to tell my mom that I was nice to you or else my parents won’t pay for my car insurance.”

“Oh my God, Jared,” Alana said. “You’re such a--”

“We are NOT here to criticize my actions, okay? We are here to try, to try and save--”

Jared couldn’t finish because Connor had stepped away from the bulletin boards and was making a beeline for the lockers where Evan and Jared were standing. 

Evan watched as Jared turned and, catching sight of Connor, called out, “Hey, Connor! I’m loving the new hair length. Very school shooter chic.”

Evan winced. 

“Nice, Jared.” Alana said witheringly. Jared spluttered. 

“Wait. Alana—stop me from laughing!” Evan said. 

“What? Laughing? Evan, I don’t know how to—Jared, where’s the manual. Jared! You’re sitting on it. Jared! The manual!”

Too late. 

Once, Evan was in the back seat of the car when his father lost control of the wheel. 

He woke up just in time to see the car in the intersection—a blue Mazda—come spinning towards them at an unstoppable speed, carried on black ice. The world slowed in that moment, Evan felt the seconds pass watching the woman desperately claw at the wheel. 

She wasn’t strong enough to stop her own momentum and she hit them, head on, and Evan couldn’t breathe as he fell. 

Watching Connor was like that. 

Even if he wanted to stop him—even if Connor wanted to be stopped—he was too far gone now to do anything but collide, head on. 

“You think I’m a freak?”

“No, I don’t—”

“I’m not the freak.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“You’re the fucking freak!”

The air left Evan’s lungs as he hit the ground. 

 

……

 

“Evan,” Alana said. “Is this the last time you saw him alive?” 

By the lockers, Evan—past Evan—slowly stood up. He looked around—had anyone seen that? People streamed by, unseeing, uncaring. Then, like a break in the clouds, Zoe emerged from the line of kids filing into homeroom. Thank God for Zoe. 

“Evan?”

“No. Um, no. He talked, I mean I saw him in Computer Lab after school.” 

“Okay. So, we try again.”

 

…….

 

“Uh, Evan?” Alana said over the sound of furious typing. “I don’t mean to alarm you, and maybe it’s not really anything, nothing serious, I mean but uh Connor seems to be--”

“The dude is stalking you, Hansen” Jared cut in. 

Evan looked around. “Stalking me?”

“Like, not you, you. Other you. We can see him on the monitor—the final bell is about to go and he’s waiting outside your classroom in D-Hall.” 

D-Hall was quiet, Evan could hear the jittery chatter of kids from behind the classroom doors, and the low hum of the water fountain at the end of the hall. By the doors, standing at an open locker, Connor seemed out of place. 

“He had a spare last period,” Alana said softly. “He always smoked outside the library and drove Mrs H nuts.”

“Then why is he waiting at his locker?”

The bell rang. In the cacophony of scraping chairs and snapping binder clips and the sudden eruption of voices, laughter, and shouting, Evan lost sight of Connor. Instead, he came face to face with a blue polo and a blank cast. 

Evan was booking it up the hallway heading towards C-Hall, towards computer lab. Connor followed but it was like swimming upriver; he was swept back by the current of people heading towards the door. 

“He wants to talk to me,” Evan said softly. “I didn’t even notice him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *We are entering into cross-over territory in the next chapters, keep your eyes peeled for some notable mentions*
> 
> Just as a side note, I am writing this fic for NaNoWriMo, hence I'm generating a lot of content but once I've reached a satisfactory conclusion will likely go back and make edits/ spruce up some wooden sentences/ add more imagery etc. 
> 
> THANK YOU to all who have expressed interest so far! You are simply wonderful people and I appreciate your time.


	6. Shadows and Echoes of Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The computer lab scene revisited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit angsty. Evan has a literal out-of-body experience. Jared is a bit of an ass.   
> Alana goes off to find the subplot.

Evan’s hand was already in his pocket before he realized it wasn’t his phone that was ringing. Across the room, Evan—other Evan—was rooting through his backpack while The Magnetic Fields blared, and he was sweating visibly. 

Evan covered his face as he listened to himself slowly deflate over the phone with his mom; God, did he always sound so pathetic? 

Evan paced as he talked, scrunching up the hem of his shirt and wiping the sweat off on his khakis. He hung up and carefully stowed his phone in the side pocket of his bag, then slipped into the computer lab. 

Evan stepped into the computer lab after himself. 

It was a dark little room at the end of D-Hall, tucked next to the basement stairs and the disused girl’s bathroom. The air was hot and stale; someone had left a Bubba’s pizza box on one of the tables near the radiator, the room stank of mouldering pepperoni. Just like he remembered; that smell was seared into his memory along with the strangely alluring scent of smoke and peppermint and coffee-breath that was Connor Murphy. 

“Speaking of which…,” Evan mused. “He should be around here somewhere.”

Alana tapped at her command board. “He’s not showing up on the monitor. He was right behind you and now…he’s…”

“There he is!” Jared crowed. 

“Oh,” said Alana. Evan could hear her frowning. “That’s odd. It almost looked like...”

“Never mind that. Evan, this is your big moment. You know what you’ve got to do, right?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Of course, I do, yeah.”

Connor appeared in the doorway; Evan understood now why people called it ‘darkening your door’… just the sight of Connor’s black hoodie gave him anxiety. 

He watched as Connor lingered by the door, fiddling with his bag, pushing his hair back then shaking it forward then tucking it behind his ears. If Evan didn’t know better, he’d say Connor Murphy looked…. nervous. 

“That’s…. interesting,” he muttered. 

“Evan. Focus.” Jared said, voice grating in his ear. “We need to make sure he doesn’t get his hands on that letter.” 

Right. 

 

Across the room, other-Evan was typing furiously, face scrunched up. Evan knew he was about to cry and was trying not to. 

Had he always had such a slump to his shoulders? He looked at himself and saw someone who was scared out of their mind. Someone who life kept kicking while he was down. Someone who wanted—more than anyone knew—to be wanted. Was it so obvious?

Connor twitched. He had been standing by the printer, pretending to check a text on his phone, and stealing glances across the room to Evan. His face was carefully blank but slightly pink. 

“What is he waiting for?” Jared said. 

“Wait, he’s going to come over and say something soon.”

“What’s he going to say?”

“Well, not much really. I think…I think he was trying to apologise for, uh, earlier.”

Jared made a noncommittal noise. “Whatever. Just make sure you get that letter.”

“I will.”

“Alana’s left me in charge, so we don’t have to pretend we’re in this for Connor. We’re in this for you, Ev.” 

“Yea—what? Where’s Alana?” Evan’s voice was shot with panic. 

“Don’t worry about it. She said she needed to check something.”

“I thought we—you—couldn’t leave. Jared, do you know what you’re doing.”

He guffawed. “Do I know what—Evan, c’mon. Really, Hansen? Alana may have done the internships but how do you think she got this thing working in the first place? That’s right: me. Don’t even give me that bullshit—”

 

“So,” Connor said. “How’d you break your arm?”

 

“Jared! Here we go. Oh god, he’s already got the letter. He got it from the printer.”

“Okay, Hansen. You failed step one but we can still salvage this.” 

“Can’t we just go back again and change it?”

“Well, uh—”

“Jared?”

“No, not without Alana.”

“Great. That’s really great, Jared. So what good are you?”

“Fuck off, Evan. I’m doing this for you.”

“Really? Just for me? Jared, you’ve never been nice to me, not once. You’re doing this for yourself.”

 

“Well that is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Connor said, he was standing next to Evan now, across the room by the computers. He seemed…. friendly. 

 

“Jared, we have to do something. It’s going to fall apart soon. It’s coming apart right now.”

“Fuck,” Jared said, over the sound of furious typing. “I’m looking for the command override.”

“I thought you said you knew what you were doing,” Evan said, he was almost shouting. 

“Fuck you, Evan. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“Well, try harder!”

 

“No one’s signed your cast,” Connor said, softly. 

 

“Jared!”

“Okay, I got it, I got it. When I tell you, say something and it will override what you said before.”

“I don’t even—how I do know which part to change?”

“I don’t know! I thought you thought this through?”

“When do I think things through, Jared!?”

“Say something now.”

“Wha-?”

 

“Now we can both pretend that we have friends,” Connor said, recapping the Sharpie. 

 

“NOW!”

And Evan, both Evans, said, “Do you want to get pizza with me sometime?”

Connor blinked. His cheeks went red, then white, then pink. 

“Oh,” he said, Sharpie dangling from his hand. “You mean, like…like a…?”

Evan took the Sharpie and slipped it in his pocket. “Like, as friends. So we could have a – I mean, … as friends.” he said, breathlessly. 

Whatever Connor wanted him to say, it wasn’t that. He stared at his hands, hair falling in his face.

“Why are you asking me….,” he muttered. 

“I just thought…I mean, it’s kind of obviously neither of us have a lot of friends—I mean you have your sister, I guess—”

“My sister? What has my sister got to do—”

“Nothing. Oh my, God. Nothing, I was just saying that like, most siblings are—”

“Zoe and I aren’t friends.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

 

The longest silence of Evan’s lives followed. Both boys stared at their hands. 

 

Then Connor said, “Oh. Is this yours?”

He held up the letter. Evan’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. 

“I found it on the printer. ‘Dear Evan Hansen.’ That’s your name, right?”

 

Shit.

Evan stepped back, back into the nothingness. 

“Jared, it’s not working.”

 

Connor looked up at other-Evan incredulously. “Because there’s Zoe? Is this about my sister? Is this why you asked me out? To get closer to my sister? God.”

 

“Jared, I don’t understand.” Evan covered his face, he couldn’t watch this again. 

 

“You wrote this because you knew I would find it. You saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab, so you wrote this and printed it out so that I would find it.”

 

“Jared, help me. It’s not, it’s not working!”

 

“So I would read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister and freak out, right? And then you can tell everyone that I’m a—that I’m crazy, right? Fuck you.”

Connor ran, and other-Evan followed. But he wouldn’t catch up. 

The door slammed behind them. 

 

In the computer lab, Evan felt like crying. He heard the sound of typing. 

“Well. He’s completely batshit,” Jared said. 

“What the hell was that, Jared?” Evan shouted. “I don’t know if you noticed but that did absolutely nothing to change things.” 

“Okay, look. Calm down.”

“DON’T! Don’t tell me to calm down.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry. But listen—we’ll try again. We don’t need to keep him from reading the letter, we just need to make sure his parents don’t find it after—”

“After?”

“Well, yeah, Evan. After.”

“Shouldn’t we try to—I mean, at least…”

Jared scoffed. “What? ‘Save Connor Murphy’ – you’ve been hanging out with Alana too much. Apparently, you weren’t paying attention during his little performance just now. He’s fucking crazy, Evan. We can’t save him.” 

“So, so what—we just let him—” Evan couldn’t speak, he felt scorching tears drip down his cheeks. “Like he doesn’t even—like it doesn’t matter?”

“People like Connor can’t be saved, Evan. He’s a lost cause.”

“Shut up, Jared,” Evan whispered. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Jared was quiet for a long moment. Just when Evan thought he had left, he spoke.

“What do you want me to do?”

Evan took a deep breath, then another one. He wiped his face and said, “We have to try to talk to him again.”

Jared consulted the command board. “He’s on his way home.” 

“Okay,” said Evan, rubbing his face. “Then that’s where we go.”


	7. Lovely Because You Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at the Murphy's home life, Evan comes to some realizations. Jared breaks the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to say that is is more angst. It wasn't a fun chapter to write, but I tried to keep everyone somewhat in character.   
> More about Connor's aunt to be revealed.

Everything about the Murphy’s house belonged in a Sears home catalogue, but no room more so than the kitchen. 

From the granite countertops to the rustic-style backsplash, to the faux-leather stools at the breakfast island to the noiseless dishwasher; all of it was cleaner and bigger and nicer than Evan had ever seen. The first time Mrs Murphy showed him her kitchen, Evan had told her it looked ‘amazing’ but what he meant was it looked ‘terrifying.’ He spent ten minutes trying to figure out the ice dispensing machine built into the gleaming stainless-steel fridge. 

His first thought, that day when he walked for the first time into the Murphy’s house, was ‘So this is the world Zoe comes from,’ a world of convenience, a world of neatness and cleanliness, a world of privilege. 

Now, standing unseen in the quiet kitchen Evan realized something more: this was the world Connor came from, too. 

Connor who was chronically grungy, Connor who was messy and chaotic, Connor who left smudges on the gleaming surfaces of his parent’s belongings. Connor who smoked, who shouted, who lost his temper, who cried when his sister criticized him. This may have been where Connor came from, but this isn’t where he belonged. 

Evan’s kitchen wasn’t clean—not like this. 

He and his mom did the dishes by hand; Evan’s kitchen was small and cluttered and smelled like basil and thyme because Evan kept his herb garden in the south-facing window by the microwave. 

The window overlooked their tiny backyard taken up primarily by the flowerbeds and gardens—stray cats got under the fence, and they always had problems with racoons. 

The house came with an old oven that his mom couldn’t afford to replace even though you had to crank it up to 450 F to cook anything. And in the wintertime, the boot-room just off the kitchen was freezing because the previous owners had built it without any insulation. 

Evan’s home was a place of half-done chores and potting soil ground into the rug by the door, a place of forgotten dinnertimes and endless cups of Maxwell House coffee made in a coffeepot Heidi bought at Costco. 

But when Evan sat in his favourite chair in the living room and leaned his head back to look through the kitchen and out the window to his garden, he saw himself and he saw his mom reflected back to him in all the mess. He saw school photos on the fridge and stickie-notes with sloppy hand-written ‘I love yous’ on them, he saw his Ellison Park uniform hanging from the boot-room hooks and he saw Heidi’s mini airhorn for scaring racoons away from the compost and the carrots. 

The Murphy’s kitchen was empty; Evan spotted one photo of Zoe—her Grade 8 graduation—sitting, half-forgotten, by the fruit bowl. He spied some raincoats hanging from the hooks just off the landing—a pink one, a red one, and a green one. 

Someone had written a note in loopy cursive on the whiteboard next to the garage door; it read ‘That which doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger’ and in crisp blue marker another hand had added, ‘no it fucking doesn’t.’ 

 

The kitchen lights snapped on and Cynthia Murphy wandered in, handheld phone pressed to her ear. She was nodding to herself, making sympathetic noises to whoever was on the other end of the line. 

The mugs were in the top cupboard, the tea in the pantry; she slid the kettle over the burner and nudged the element to life with her hip. Cynthia moved with economy, simple and straightforward grace. A dancer in her youth, an avid yoga practiser and organizer of her neighbourhood’s Mom’s Run Club. She drank green tea with a teaspoon of agave every afternoon when she got home from shopping. 

“Did he say why?” she asked, measuring a spoonful of loose-leaf tea into a reusable tea bag. “No, he never tells me anything anymore. You know what he’s like these days. It’s like I’m torturing him, he treats me like—”

Evan stepped closer. The scent of Mrs Murphy’s perfume filled his nose—floral and sharp—as he leaned over her shoulder. The caller ID read: Auntie Ronnie, local number. 

Evan leaned back. 

“Do you think they’re talking about Connor?” he said. 

“Who else?” Jared said, softly. He paused, then said with a nervous laugh, “I guess you’re still talking to me, then?”

Evan didn’t reply. It had been a tense and silent walk from the school to Maple Street. Evan hadn’t said a word and Jared had had the good sense not to push him. 

“Oh, did you guys have a good time?” Cynthia said. “I’ve heard it’s so nice up there.”

Evan looked at Mrs Murphy’s peaceful smile in awe; as she talked, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in just the same way he’d seen Connor do dozens of times. Did she feel it—could she feel how close she was to tragedy? To never smiling again?

“Oh, you went bowling? He hates going with us, we can never find shoes that fit him! Oh, Ronnie, that’s great!” she said, happier than Evan had ever seen her. Anxious, yes, but happy. 

Upstairs, a door opened. Cynthia’s head shot up, so did Evan’s, as the unmistakable sound of Doc Martin boots stomped down the hallway and thundered down the stairs. Cynthia’s hand, which had flown to her chest, now lingered there playing with a tiny gold cross. 

“Connor? Honey, is that you? Come into the kitchen, Auntie Veronica wants to talk to you!”

To say that Connor looked like a mess would be understating things; he appeared in the doorway like a cloud blocking the sun. He’d drawn his unruly hair up into a bun and was wearing a ripped tank top. His skinny white arms were painted with scars. 

“I don’t want to talk to her,” he said. His eyes were bloodshot and circled in purple exhaustion.

Cynthia covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Connor, please. Just say hello.”

Connor stepped around his mother and went to the fridge. He emerged with a bottle of peach-flavoured tea in one hand. He put out his other hand and accepted the phone. 

“Hi, Auntie. Can’t talk. You know, I’m too busy planting thermals under the high school gym. I’m just busy, busy, busy. I’m sure Mom can fill you in on my latest treatment—fun fact, Prozac makes your piss blue!”

“CONNOR!” Cynthia nearly ripped the cross from her neck. She grabbed the phone from his hand and fixed her son with an uncomprehending look of hurt and embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Veronica.”

“Just ask Auntie what we did this summer, Mom, she’ll corroborate my story. She told me all about her high school troubles, told me all about what she had to deal with. We really had a heart to heart.” 

“I’ll call you back, sweetheart….” Cynthia set the phone on the table. “Your aunt took you in all summer, Connor. Can’t you have a little—”

“What? Gratitude? She only took me in because you and Dad couldn’t handle me!’

“That’s-no,” she said, hoarse. “No, that’s not true. You and Ronnie were always close, we thought—I thought—it’d be a nice break for you.”

“A nice break for you, too.”

“No, honey. No,” she said. Tears were streaming down Cynthia’s pale face, her meltwater eyes fixed on her son’s face; Connor stared past her head, hatefully. 

 

The door opened then and Zoe stepped in following by Mr Murphy. Evan watched as the grin slipped from Zoe’s face and her pretty features settled into disappointed anger. 

“What’s going on here?” Mr Murphy said, stepping around his daughter into the landing. He was holding his briefcase in one hand and Zoe’s guitar in the other. “Connor?”

Connor’s words had dried up the moment Larry stepped into the room. Cynthia wiped her face. 

“Nothing,” she said. “Here, honey, let me take that.” 

Larry deposited his briefcase and his daughter’s guitar into his wife’s arms. He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” he said, taking in his wife’s blotchy face. “Doesn’t look like nothing either.” 

“How about you mind your own fucking business?” Connor whispered severely. 

Mr Murphy turned to face his son. “So it’s not my business that my wife is crying and my son, my nearly adult son, is antagonizing the household again?” 

Connor was shaking. Evan could see his fingers trembling, his left leg jittering. Tears dripped off his chin and splattered on the tile. Mr Murphy sighed and walked to the stove where the kettle, forgotten, had been whistling in vain. He moved it off the element and switched off the stovetop. 

“I don’t know why you’re crying, Connor. It’s not going to change anything—we could hear you yelling from the driveway.” 

Zoe, silent throughout this, moved to the stairs and slipped out of sight. Evan watched her flee, guitar in hand, and wished he could follow her. 

But this wasn’t her moment; this was Connor’s. 

“Larry, don’t start this tonight. It was a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

Larry took a mug down from the top cupboard and plopped the little reusable teabag in it. He glanced at Cynthia who had sunk onto a stool at the island. “I find that hard to believe, Cynthia. I mean, it’s always a misunderstanding, isn’t it?” He poured hot water over the bag, stirred, and handed the cup to his wife. “It’s every single day that I come home to someone crying, someone screaming because Connor had a misunderstanding. It’s a god-damn wonder the neighbours don’t call the cops!”

“Larry, please.”

“No, he needs to hear this. Temper tantrums are not going to be tolerated in this household, Connor. You’re very lucky your mother is as good to you as she is because let me tell you, if it were up to me, there would be no retreats, no $20,000 weekends at some rehab clinic, no summers with that freak of an aunt you have.” 

“LARRY!”

“I’m sorry, Cynthia, but your sister isn’t normal. She talks to fucking ghosts.”

“Connor always looked up to Ronnie. Didn’t you, honey?”

“Not anymore.”

Cynthia sobbed. “What do you mean? What happened this summer, honey?”

“Nothing.”

“Connor, talk to me. What happened?”

Connor wasn’t crying anymore. His face was closed, his arms hung limply at his sides, numb. He stared at his mother, unflinching, and said, “I told you. Nothing happened.”

 

……

 

Evan followed Connor up the stairs and down the hallway. He could hear the barely whispered conversation between Mr and Mrs Murphy below. 

“You’re too hard on him, Larry. He’s just a boy.”

“Letting him run rampant isn’t the answer, either, Cynthia. He needs to see there are consequences for his actions.”

Evan wanted to shut them out, make them stop, but all he could do was listen and linger as Connor hovered on the top step. He shuffled down the hall. At the second door, Zoe appeared, hands on her hips. 

“Sounds like your day was just fantastic,” she said. “Really sticking to Dr Rahman’s guidelines, aren’t you? What were they again? Oh, yeah, Number One: Say what you mean but don’t YELL!”

“Stay in your own fucking lane, Zoe,” Connor snarled. 

“Oh, I’d like to, but you make that kind of difficult when you insist on screaming at the top of your lungs. Never mind when you break my stuff!”

“I bought you a new ukulele, Zoe! Fucking let it go already!”

“You mean Mom bought it for me!”

“Well, I told her to!”

“Well, aren’t you a saint. Don’t think I didn’t see what you did today—you near broke Evan’s other arm! What was that all about? I thought the point was trying to get him to talk to you?”

“Oh, please, as if you didn’t enjoy picking up the pieces. I guess he was lucky to have someone like you to save him.”

Zoe blinked. “Wait. Are you – are you jealous? What is he—? Maybe if you actually spoke to him instead of physically harassing him, he wouldn’t cower whenever you walk by.”

“He doesn’t cower.”

“Wanna bet? He flinches every time you walk in the room, Connor. He’s never going to like you if you’re an asshole to him all the time.”

“Wow, I’m getting dating advice from the band nerd.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!”

Zoe slammed her door. Connor fled to his room and slammed his. Evan stood in the hallway, reeling. 

 

“Well, Hansen,” said Jared. “Still think we can save Connor Murphy from himself?”

“Jared, we have to go back farther. Something happened this summer and we need to know what it was.”

“Uh, what? Uh, no, no, no. That wasn’t part of the deal. And look, Alana’s still gone doing I don’t know what and we really shouldn’t—”

“Jared. I’m not asking. I’m telling you.”

“You think going back a couple months is really going to save him? Look, if this afternoon was an indicative sample I’d say he’s pretty fucked.”

“Well, maybe we can change that, Jared! Why won’t you have some frigging faith?!”

“Okay, calm yourself. How far back are we talking?”

“When did he go stay at his aunt’s?”

Jared’s hands flew across the command board. “August, 2015. So, this August. Look, Evan, I know you’re trying to do the right thing and I admire that, I do. But this isn’t a game, we don’t get to start over if we mess it up. And, God, Alana would kill me if she knew how far I let this go already.”

“I thought Alana wanted us to try to, to try and save him,” Evan said. 

Jared made a noise in his throat. “She does. But she’s not stupid, either. We’re playing with fire here, Evan. What if we go back and we make things worse? What if we go back and, well, I mean, you can’t just mess around with someone’s life.”

“But if we could convince him—”

“Why does this matter so much to you, Evan? I know you want to help, but this is more than just helping, this is…I mean, you’re getting obsessed.” 

Evan rubbed his face. How could he tell Jared the truth? 

“Connor didn’t deserve to die, Jared. He didn’t deserve to just disappear and not be missed by anyone. No one deserves that. I—” 

Evan’s voice faltered. He took a deep breath. 

“When the Murphy’s invited me over for dinner that day, you have no idea what that was like. His Mom had been crying for three days straight, his Dad was a wreck, Zoe—I couldn’t stand it. 

No one deserves that, and nobody ever thinks about how much their parents will miss them…after. I never even thought—Connor never meant for them to hurt like that, I know he didn’t. 

Shouldn’t we try to, I don’t know, give him another chance?”

“God, Hansen, you’ll be the death of me. Okay, let’s do it. But on your head be it if this all blows up.”


	8. Confusion is Nothing New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan finds himself in the back of someone's car...and takes a drive through the events of August 8th, 2015.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small update for you here; more of Veronica, the original black sheep of the Murphy family, to come.

The first weird thing was a headache. 

Evan came to sitting in the back seat of a moving car, mouth dry, and head pounding. The radio, low and screechy, churned out disparate bars of an old Cindy Lauper song. The driver, a woman in her early forties with short brown hair and freckles, was humming along. 

“An’ you say gooooo slooooow” she crooned, thumbs tapping the steering wheel. Each fingernail was painted a different shade of blue, her thumbs being the darkest and adorned with little stars. “I fall behind.” 

Evan looked at the dash; it was an old car, a Pontiac, pre-dating CDs, and the smudged clock above the radio dial read 11:43 a.m. 

“What day is it?” Evan asked. 

“August 8th,” the woman said. “Labour Day weeeekeeeend! Woo!”

“I’m sorry—” Jared’s voice crackled in Evan’s ear. “What the FUCK? Did she just ANSWER YOU?”

“It’s okay, kiddo,” she continued, laughing. “You can talk to me. You’re not my first.”

“Um,” Evan said eloquently. 

“You seem nervous, kid,” she said, glancing at him through the rear-view mirror. “Rough trip?” 

“Uh, who are you?” 

A knobbly hand nearly poked Evan in the nose. 

“Veronica Sawyer, psychic,” she said. Evan shook the sun-browned hand, he felt each ring on her finger as they pressed into his palm. 

“Uh, hi. I’m Ev-”

“I know who you are, kiddo,” she said, flicking on her blinker and making a wide left turn. 

“You know?”

Veronica laughed. 

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” she said. “You and I got a lot of history…though I guess for you none of it has happened yet, has it?”

“No, ma’am.”

She caught his eye in the mirror and winked. “Something to look forward to, then.”

 

Evan rubbed his face, trying to will away the thundering behind his ears. Then he noticed where exactly they were driving. 

“I know that park,” he said. “We’re on Connor’s street.”

Veronica frowned as she slowed down and turned into 44 Maple Street. She put the car in park and leaned around to face Evan. A pair of steely brown eyes fixed on his. 

“Listen, kid,” she said, combing back her hair. “I may not know much.”

Somehow Evan doubted this. 

“But I do know this: whenever you show up, weird shit happens.” She spoke bluntly, staring him down. 

She raised a hand to wave off any protestations, although none were forthcoming.

“I’m not blaming you, I understand it’s mostly beyond your control. But, do me a favour? Keep the weird shit to a minimum while Con’s here?” She nodded toward the house. “I only see my nephew twice a year and I don’t want some freaky paranormal crap to scare him off.”

Evan blinked. 

“Capische?” Veronica said. 

“Uh, yeah. Yes, ma’am.”

“Great,” she said, grinning, taking her eyes off him at last. Evan felt like a strong light had been turned off. “Let’s go get him.”

Veronica swivelled around in her seat, then without preamble rammed the heel of her hand into the car horn. 

HON-HON-HONNNNNNK!

A dead silence fell. Then, after a moment, the front door flew open and Cynthia Murphy stepped out onto her front porch. Veronica leaned out the window and waved, a huge grin splitting her face. 

“HEY CINDY!”

Mrs Murphy would have replied but Veronica reached for the radio dial and spun it. The ear-bleeding whine of ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ filled the car. Evan watched in dumb-struck awe as Cynthia’s face broke into a stunning smile and she gave a little wave in her sister’s direction. 

Veronica climbed out of the car and leaving the door wide open, ran into her sister’s open arms. The hug lasted longer than Evan expected; the two women rocking back and forth, laughing, each burying their face in the other’s neck. 

At last, they drew apart. 

Cynthia reached up and ruffled Veronica’s short-cropped hair before smoothing it down with both hands and resting her palms on Veronica’s cheeks. 

Evan clambered into the front seat and slipped out of the car. He stood in the driveway next to the hydrangeas and watched the two sisters catch up. They never broke contact, constantly touching hands, or fixing the other’s hair, or touching their elbow or tugging on the hem of their shirt. 

Evan couldn’t understand why two sisters who loved each other so much spent so little time together. 

 

Then Mr Murphy, followed by Zoe, stepped out onto the porch. 

Next to her family, Cynthia seemed to remember herself. She stepped back and, putting an arm around Zoe, scooted her daughter forward. Zoe gave her aunt a polite hug. 

“Hey, Zo-bug,” Veronica said, tugging on a strand of Zoe’s hair. “Loving the blue.”

“It’s indigo,” Zoe murmured. This earned her a fierce glare from her mother so she added, “But thanks.”

“How was the drive, Ronnie?” Mr Murphy ventured. 

“Oh, grand,” Veronica replied in the same casual tone. “You know it’s always a fucking pain getting through Madison on a long weekend; I swear to God it’s like people forget how to drive just because it’s a holiday.”

“Mhm,” Larry said. “Well, let’s see if Connor’s ready.”

He retreated a few steps into the house and called, “Connor! Let’s get a move on!”

A small elephant could have made less noise than Connor Murphy descending the stairs. He appeared, dishevelled but clean, and holding a rucksack and a small black suitcase. He had washed his hair and it hung in dripping curtains down his back. 

At the sight of her nephew, Veronica’s 120-watt smile returned. Connor had barely enough time to drop his bags before all 160 pounds of Veronica flew at him in a torrent of affection. 

“When the FUCK did you get so tall?” she demanded, looking up from where her head rested, just shy of his clavicle. “What are these people feeding you?” Then with a sly pinch to his stomach, she added, “Clearly not enough whatever it is.”

Connor, slightly pink around the ears, placed a tentative arm around his aunt’s broad shoulders and squeezed.

“Hi, Auntie,” he said quietly. 

Veronica gave him a look.

“‘Hi Auntie’” she mimicked, voice going unnaturally deep. “What, you’re too cool to associate with your auntie now that you’re eighteeeeen?”

Connor actually blushed. He tucked a strand hair behind one of his shiny ears. 

“I’m not eighteen yet,” he said. “My birthday’s next week.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said. “Hey, let’s get these bags in the car!”

Veronica leaned down and grabbed Connor’s rucksack. Cynthia took his suitcase in one hand and reached for Connor’s arm with the other. As her fingers brushed his wrist, Connor flinched. 

Cynthia withdrew her hand. 

Veronica stowed Connor’s bags in the trunk. As she slammed it closed, she fixed Evan with a look of urgency and motioned for him to get in the backseat. 

Connor paused around the other side of the car and gave his aunt a funny look. She shook her head slightly. And that was that. 

Connor pecked his mother on the cheek and slid into the passenger seat. 

“Alright,” Veronica said. “I’ll see you in a month!”

She drew her sister into a crushing hug, waved to Zoe and Larry on the step, and climbed back into her car, slammed the door and reversed out onto Maple Street. 

“Bye, honey!” Cynthia called, waving. 

She followed the car to the end of the drive, arms crossed tightly against her body, one hand worrying at her cross. 

From the back seat, Evan watched her. She stood in the street, watching until the Pontiac turned a corner and disappeared.


	9. Dear Connor Murphy, What To Say To You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan sees Connor in a new light--the good and the bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters will be looking at Connor's personality in more depth. There will be happy moments, don't worry!  
> This is a Fix-It, after all. 
> 
> Also, disclaimer: I have never been to WI or Ohio and do not live in the States, hence my understanding of highway names and American culture will likely be wrong. You've been warned :)

By the time they hit the highway, Evan’s headache had gone from uncomfortable to painful. 

He laid down across the back seats watching sun shapes flash across the baggy roof of the car. The windows rattled with each thump of the stereo and Evan’s teeth felt loose. 

In the front seat, Connor was on his third cigarette and had his arm flung out the open window, hand riding the air current. 

Veronica’s glove box was filled with greasy cassettes ranging from Nirvana to The Doors to Starship. 

“Hey!” she said, swatting at Connor’s shoulder. “Tell me your mom played you this one!”

She spun the volume dial and the car was flooded with wailing sound and driving guitar. 

Connor’s grin nearly split his face and he screamed out, 

“WE BUILT THIS CITY!”

Both of them thrashed their heads forward, hair flying, and scream-singing at the top of their lungs. 

“Oh my God, they’re such freaks,” Jared said, laughing. 

Evan shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Yeah, they really are.”

He’d never seen Connor smile, so wide, so brilliant.

It was infectious. 

****

About an hour down Route 41, Connor turned down the music and cleared his throat. 

“Can I try driving for a bit?”

Veronica had been humming along to Neko Case, lost in a reverie; she paused, mouth open. 

She took a contemplative drag of her cigarette and frowned. 

“I don’t see why not,” she said, tossing the butt out the window and easing the Pontiac to the shoulder. “You’ve got your license, don’t you?”

Connor nodded and unbuckled his seatbelt. Veronica hauled herself out of the car and ambled around to the passenger side. She opened Connor’s door.

“My liege,” she said, giving a little bow. “Your chariot awaits.”

Connor’s cheekbones were pink as he scrambled into the driver’s seat. 

Veronica lit up another cigarette before sliding into the car and slamming the door. 

“Ok, cowboy. Give ‘er.” she said around a puff of smoke. 

She glanced at Evan, lying sprawled across the backseat with his arms over his head, and chuckled. 

“I guess it doesn’t affect you one way or another if we crash, eh?”

Evan scowled at her. 

“That doesn’t mean you should try. Does he even know how to drive?”

Veronica gazed at her nephew, grinning.

“Fuck, I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

Connor was watching his aunt nervously. He rested his bony wrists on the wheel, fingers tapping the thumb of each hand. His long legs were folded awkwardly around the pedals and his knees nearly touched the dash. 

“Is there, uh,” he started. He cleared his throat. “Do we have a visitor?” 

He said it so calmly, but Evan could hear the tremor in his voice, the squeaky vowels that betrayed his confidence. 

Veronica seemed to be choosing her words, carefully. It felt like an eternity before she spoke. 

She was fixing Evan with her glittering brown eyes, mirth and anxiety dancing across her lips. 

“He doesn’t mean us any harm, Con,” she said, at last. 

Connor nodded and started the engine. 

 

With a jolt, they merged back onto the quiet highway. Connor gripped the wheel like it was a lifeline; his nose was nearly touching his knuckles. 

Veronica gave Evan a wink and a warm smile. 

“Con,” she said, softly. “You know that trick with the lighter you showed me a while back?”

“Mmhmm,” Connor said, breathing laboured.

Veronica ran a hand through her hair and leaned back in her seat, one boot on the dash. 

“You remember, kiddo? You said it took you weeks to learn to do without burning yourself and when I asked you how you did it...you said, ‘You just gotta let go of the fact that it might hurt, you just gotta let it happen’ … you remember that?”

Connor snuck her a lightning-speed glance. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“So you tried to show me how you did that trick, how to get the lighter to float over your fingers, disappear under the thumb, glide over the knuckles. Like magic...You remember how many times I dropped that fucking lighter?” 

Veronica cracked up at this, chuckling to herself. 

“Fuck, I had burn marks for weeks! But you said--I’ll never forget,--you said, ‘Auntie, that’s the risk you take when you play with fire’ I swear to God you read too many novels, kid, but anyways, we practised and practised and then…” 

She reached over and tugged the wheel an inch to the left as they rounded a turn.

“And then, I got it. We got it.”

“We got it,” Connor murmured. “Yeah. We did.”

Veronica tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Put your shoulders back, kiddo, you're doing great.”

 

Between his fingers, Evan saw Connor’s face in the rearview mirror. 

Until that moment he had never seen Connor Murphy. 

Now, with the afternoon sun falling across his face, Evan saw him. 

He saw the freckles on his nose and how long his eyelashes were, red-brown and long enough to brush his cheekbones; he saw the crystal blue of his eyes and the crinkles at the corner of his mouth from smiling. Evan could have written essays on Connor Murphy's smile. 

 

Connor brushed off his aunt’s touch and shook out his hair before combing it back with one hand. 

“Hey. So, I finished Salem’s Lot. I’ve got it in my pack.”

Veronica raised her eyebrows. “Annnnnnd?”

Connor gave a little laugh and rubbed his nose. “Okay, I fucking loved it.”

They chatted back and forth, swapping theories, quoting their favourite parts. 

Connor’s driving evened out and he settled back into the seat, hands resting lightly on the wheel. 

 

Then Veronica said, “Okay, but why is it always a little town in Maine?”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Imagine if vampires showed up in Madison--would people even look up from their phones long enough to notice?”

Veronica snorted. “Okay, cynical much.”

“I’m just saying,” Connor said.. “And I’m just thinking of my school, I really don’t think anyone would notice if vampires took over.”

“Until it was too laaaaate,” Veronica added, wiggling her fingers at him. 

“Exactly,” Connor said. He said it lightly but his face had gone suddenly serious. “Nobody notices until it’s too late.”

“Con,” Veronica said. “Hey. Maybe vampires are already in Madison, right? And we’d never notice.”

“Nobody notices anything,” he spat. “They don’t even notice--”

He stopped. 

Evan sat up and studied Connor’s face in the mirror. 

He was smiling but it wasn’t a happy smile; it was the kind of smile that tries to convince everyone you’re fine. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Con?” 

“It’s just so true,” he said, every word wound taut. “Fuck, I could walk around with a bomb strapped to my chest and Mrs H would write me up for ‘violating the dress code.’”

Veronica’s face went carefully blank. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” she said calmly. 

He shook his head angrily. 

“I don’t know why I fucking bother. Honestly, Auntie, the whole system is fucked. No one gives a shit about you until you’re gone; I could disappear tomorrow and not one person in that town would care.”

“Con,” she said. “Those aren’t helpful thoughts.”

“I know you’d miss me,” he said, by way of acknowledgement. “But you’d be about it.”

“Kiddo, why don’t I drive for a while, okay?”

 

Veronica flicked her cigarette out on to the road and turned to look at Evan. 

She did not speak but her eyes said enough: Is this why you’ve come here? 

Evan tried to fake it; tried not to show her exactly what she didn’t want to be confirmed. 

But Evan’s eyes didn’t lie as well as his tongue and Veronica saw everything--her worst fear, her deepest regret--she saw it all written on Evan’s face.

 

She closed her eyes.


	10. And the One Thing I Loved More than Anything was Used as the Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor settles into Veronica's apartment--cats, tea, ghosts, feelings, and family secrets are present.  
> Connor overhears things not meant for his ears.

“Any big plans for your eighteenth?” Veronica said, handing Connor a mug of liquorice tea and settling onto the squashy armchair opposite. “You and your friends gonna sneak into a bar or something? God, that’s what was considered fun in my day.” 

She chuckled and blew on her tea. 

Connor let his hair fall forward as he carefully studied the contents of his cup. 

“Um,” he said. “ No plans, really... Your place is so nice, wow.”

Veronica had a two-bedroom apartment on the east side of Sherwood overlooking the lake. It was part of a massive World War 2 era house, and her landlady, Mrs Holt, lived below. It was either freezing or sweltering and the furniture was faded from the constant exposure to sunlight.

It was also dirty; dishes left undone, crumbs on the counter, smudges on the fridge door, mascara left open on the sink, hair in the drain, cat food in the fridge, cigarette ash on the coffee table, --life dirty. 

The resident cat--belonging in name to Mrs Holt but who spent all of his time in Veronica’s part of the house--was called Pepperjack which Mrs Holt said meant ‘fat, mooching menace.’ 

He was a tubular orange tabby with quick green eyes, big soft paws, a curious tail, and a wicked bite. His favourite pastimes were attacking ankles, biting lit candles, and taking long sunbathes in the windowsill. 

Pepperjack heaved himself up on the couch and quickly made Connor’s lap his bed. Connor scratched the fat tabby’s ears and rubbed a knuckle under his chin. 

“I guess you haven’t been here since you were little, eh?” Veronica said, smiling ruefully. “You and your mom stayed here the year Zoe was born, you know.”

Connor looked up suddenly, startling the snoozing cat. “I didn’t know that. Why? What about Da---Larry?”

Veronica waved a hand to dismiss the topic. “Doesn't matter now. Whiskey under the bridge, as they say. But you came to stay again when you were seven--Cindy wanted you to see a specialist down here.”

Connor shook his head. “I remember that year -- God, that was the year of psychotherapy. When I was nine it was all about hypnosis, ten was talk-therapy, thirteen was the drug trials, fourteen…” 

The rueful grin slipped from Connor’s face. 

Veronica wrapped her hands around her cup. “Fourteen wasn’t a good year. But you made it, kiddo.”

Connor blushed but didn’t meet his aunt’s eye. He sipped his tea and pulled Pepperjack into a snuggle. 

“He’s got a hell of a bite, Con,” she said. “Watch your fingers.”

“He won’t bite me,” Connor murmured, burying his face in Pepper’s voluminous tummy. 

Evan had been standing by the kitchen, floating in and out of earshot while Connor settled in. Veronica leaned back and propped a socked foot up on the coffee table. 

“Sit down, kiddo,” she said, yawning. “You’re making me tired just standing there.”

Evan sunk on to the couch next to Connor more out of habit than because he was actually tired. He half expected to sink right through to the floor, but instead, he felt a distant pressure and slight warmth where Connor’s leg would have touched his. 

Connor did not move but he sat up and glanced at his aunt then to the spot next to him on the couch, peering intently as if he could somehow see what wasn’t there. 

Evan was rooted to the spot, Connor’s nose was an inch away from his, he could feel his little puffs of breath, smell the liquorice and honey, and underneath the familiar smell that always accompanied Connor -- smoke and peppermint. 

Veronica had laid her head back against the chair and closed her eyes, she muttered now and again to some entity no one could see but her. Evan heard her say ‘it’s too soon to tell, sport’ and ‘not now, Chandler,’ and then she was silent. 

After a while, Connor tired of trying to see ghosts and he flopped down on the couch and pulled Pepperjack up to lay across his neck. The tabby purred contently and chewed Connor’s hair. 

Connor was quiet for a moment, then said in a small voice, “I wish I’d come here more often, I wish Mom let me stay here with you.”

Veronica opened her eyes and raised her eyebrows. “Well, damn kiddo, you’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere.”

She laughed nervously and sat up. 

“Besides, things will be easier once you move out, get your own car, right? Things really didn’t start working out for me until college.”

Connor’s face clouded over. “Yeah, well. I don’t think that’s gonna happen for me.”

“What, college? Dude, you’re gonna love college.”

“I just don’t see myself--I mean, I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Doesn't matter that much, Con. Employers don’t care what you study as long as you’ve got the B.A.H. next to your name; they’ll take your resume over one that doesn't have a degree.” 

“I’m sure Mom and Larry will have plenty of opinions about what I should study, and where. It’s not like they can just let me pick for myself; they want to control everything I do! I wish you were my Mom.”

Veronica looked profoundly uncomfortable. “I appreciate that, kiddo, but I’m not really Mom material. Cindy always had the monopoly on that department.”

Connor shook his head. “Yeah, look at the fucking stellar job she did with me.”

Veronica frowned. 

“Con,” she said. “Is there something going on? I mean, more than just the usual? I know you and your Dad never saw eye to eye but ...you never talked about your Mom like this before...Did something happen?”

“They’re sick of me,” he said. “Why do you think Mom sent me out here to stay with you--she’s fucking sick of looking at me.” 

“Connor, that’s not the truth.”

“What else am I supposed to think? She looks at me like I’m a bomb about to go off. And it’s always another clinic, another trip to Dr Rahman, another psychologist, another miracle cure for her fucked up son.”

Veronica grappled for something to say. She made a hopeless glance at Evan. 

Connor continued. “I could come live with you, right? If things got really bad? If I needed to? You’d come to get me.” 

“Of course I would,” Veronica said hoarsely. “But, Con-”

“But, what?” he snapped. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I never said--”

“I’m asking you to let me stay here.”

Veronica rubbed her temples, trying to remain calm. 

“What about school?”

“Fuck school.”

“No, see, that’s exactly the attitude Cindy’s so scared of, Con,” Veronica shouted. “You act like nothing matters, like nothing you do has consequences.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to do this anymore,” Connor screamed. 

Veronica stood up, knocking her tea over, “What, Connor? You don’t want to do WHAT anymore?”

“I don’t want to --I just want to--”

“You don’t want to what? You don’t want to grow up? You don’t want to--to live?”

On the couch, Connor looked smaller than Evan had ever seen him; he was trembling. He had no reply except tears. 

Veronica’s anger vanished and as she gazed at her nephew sobbing on her couch, Evan saw her mascara run and drip in black rivulets down her cheeks. 

“Connor? Answer me.”

“I never said that,” he said softly, anger dissipated. 

Veronica shook her head as she strode to the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel. She mopped up her spilt tea, careful not meet Evan’s eye. 

“Talk to me, kiddo,” she said, kneeling at Connor’s feet. “Talk. Say anything. Please.”

Connor wiped his face on his sleeves and shook his head. 

“I don’t have anything to say.”

…….

It was dark in the room save for a single street light outside the west window. It was a moonless night, starless and bleak. Evan stood. The living room was the same but somehow felt full of people and voices although the only person there was Veronica. 

She sat smoking next to the open window, feet resting on the windowsill. Just when he thought the silence would stretch on forever, she stirred. Evan glanced around but there was no sign of Connor; it was 2 a.m. he would have gone to his room long ago. 

Veronica exhaled a plume of smoke, and then without turning around began to speak. 

“I’ve got questions, kid,” she said bluntly. “And I’ve got things I don’t want to know.”

“Okay,” Evan said. He felt cold and the pounding in his head had come back. 

“Are you a ghost?”

Evan baulked a little. Did she think he was dead? 

“No,” he said shakily. “No, I’m not a ghost.”

Veronica made a low noise in her throat. “I didn’t think you were, just making sure. Next question: how far along are we?”

“What do you--”

“How long do I have left, kid?” she said. She didn’t sound angry, but she sounded hardened and tired. “How long do I get to say I have a nephew?”

Evan felt something cold and slimy slither down his gut. 

“Do you really want to know?” he said, softly.

Veronica sighed, a noise that came out somewhere between a curse and a sob. 

“No,” she said. “You’re right. I don’t want to know that. But God, what am I supposed to do? I could call Cindy and tell her to take him to a doctor, tell her to take him to therapy like she’s 

done a million times before, I could tell her to try a hundred different things but that’s isn’t the problem, it’s not that she’s not doing enough, she’s doing everything she knows how to do….She doesn’t understand him, she refuses to understand him, and that’s why she’ll lose him.”

Evan felt like crying. 

“And his Dad,” she continued in a bitter voice, “would rather think the worst of his son ...rather pummel him down than being a decent fucking parent because he can’t bear--He can’t get his head around-- He’s never going to accept him.” 

She spoke with damning finality and Evan, for his part, had to agree with her. 

“But you know,” she said, now speaking louder. “Maybe I don’t even understand him. I’m not the best judge of people--yes I know, yeah, clearly.” 

Evan glanced around the chair half expecting to see someone leaning in the window, but it was empty. Clearly, there was a third unseen participant to this conversation. 

“Connor trusts you,” Evan said. “I’ve never seen him share so much than when he’s with you.”

Veronica shook her head. “But maybe that’s the problem, kid, I've got an awful knack of not setting boundaries. God, I’ve done this before, too. It’s always the angry ones that get to me. 

There was this guy I dated in high school--god, this is ancient history now--and he was….I mean for a while he was great. Funny, charming, and self-deprecating with a penchant for wearing a lot of black...--sound familiar? 

And he went, I meant he really fucking went, off the rails. Tried to blow up the high school--and would have if I hadn’t...stopped him.”

“Where is he now?”

Veronica took a long drag of her cigarette. “He blew himself up so I imagine what’s left of him is buried in the cemetery across the lake.” 

“Oh my God,” Evan said. 

“That’s not the point, really. The point is that I didn’t notice; J.D. was….I mean he was my first boyfriend, we were seventeen, we were dumb, but I didn’t notice. And even when I did notice something was wrong about him, I didn’t do anything. I let it fester, I let him … I didn’t know how to save him, pull him back from that.” 

“But you were seventeen--how could you have saved him?”

“I guess that’s the excuse, right? I didn’t know better? But now I do--now, I know better, and I’m looking at the face of a kid I’ve loved since he was born and I’m terrified... I’m terrified of myself around him, Evan, what do I do with that? How am I supposed to help him when I can’t even deal with my own shit?”

She was crying now. Veronica didn’t cry like her sister; Cynthia didn’t hold anything back, she sobbed until she exhausted her sadness, Veronica cried like it was a wound--something immediately stanched and held with firm pressure until the bleeding stopped. 

Behind Evan, down the hall, a floorboard creaked. 

Veronica either didn’t hear it or didn’t care. 

She continued, “I’m terrified that one day I’m going to get a call, and it’s going to be Cindy on the other end telling me--telling me he took a gun to school, or God, put thermals under the high school gym, or--” She cast an angry look at Evan. “Or whatever it is he did that was bad enough to send you back here.”

Evan couldn’t speak. Veronica turned on him. 

“What, Evan?” she shouted. “What was it? Why are you here?”

Before Evan could answer, Veronica’s head snapped up, listening. They heard bare feet on the hardwood floor, then the creak of the last bedroom door as it swung shut. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Silence fell over the house. Veronica rubbed her face and sunk back into her armchair where she sat, staring out the window, smoking, and talking to her ghosts. 

She stayed that way until dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my version, Veronica is literally haunted by ghosts. She's carrying on conversations with Ram, Kurt, and Heather Chandler.


	11. But That Doesn't Make Us Wise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small reprieve from all the angst featuring Pepperjack the cat.

“Jared?”

“Yeah, Hansen?”

Evan was standing in the hallway outside Veronica’s apartment, swathed in darkness. He could hear the tinny sound of a TV coming from downstairs where Mrs Holt lived. Pepperjack sat on the top stair, keeping watch. 

“How far ahead can you see? What happens next?”

Jared’s hand flickered over the command board for a long while, then he said, “They go on a road trip, they head up to some park and go hiking.”

“Let’s skip ahead,” Evan said. “I can’t stay here any longer. My head is killing me and I’m pretty sure Veronica hates me.”

“What’s wrong with your head?”

Evan sighed, frustrated. “It’s like there’s a little man with a jackhammer behind my eyes, is this normal?”

Jared flipped through the manual. “Eh, it says you may experience some mild discomfort. I guess it’s not so mild?”

“Mild? Yeah, I wouldn’t call it mild.”

Pepperjack meowed loudly and crouched down. In the doorway behind him, Veronica appeared. She had a cup of coffee in her hand and looked calmer than before. 

“Evan?”

“I have to go somewhere else--this isn’t the right time--I mean, I’m not doing anything productive,” he rambled. 

Veronica nodded. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I know you’re just trying to help him.”

Evan stared at the cat, front paws kneading the carpet, butt wiggling. 

“Was he--Was he always like this?”

Veronica glanced at the cat. 

“No,” she said. “God, he was such a happy kid. He was--God, all I remember is how he was always sticky--covered in mud! We didn’t know where he found mud half the time, he’d come home from school covered in it in the middle of a drought. You know how little boys can be; he was filthy all the time. Rocks in his pockets--dozens of them--each one a different colour.” 

Evan smiled. 

“I remember, the time he was staying with me...after a rough school year...he was about seven, and he was outside playing when I heard him shouting for me. 

There was a kitten in the bushes and we couldn’t find it. We searched for hours until it got too dark to see, and we left out a tin of tuna and a bit of milk--I mean the damn racoons ate it in a heartbeat but Connor wouldn’t sleep without knowing the kitten would be okay. 

And I thought that was the end of it but sure enough I wake up and find the little guy’s bed empty, never slept in, and I find him snoozing on the porch steps with a bag of cheese in his hand--because you know, we ran out of tuna and the next best thing to lure a cat is pepper jack cheese.” 

She chuckled. 

“It’s shit like that I remember and I don’t know why but I can still see him, that little stinky kid with a jammy smile, whenever I look at him now.”

In a feat of surprising grace, given his age and size, Pepperjack sprung from the top stair and flew at Veronica’s ankle, teeth and claws bared. She moved just in time and the great old bastard went sliding headfirst into the door jamb. 

“Ha!” she said, sipping her coffee. “Sly little fucker.”

Pepper rolled over and got to his feet, licking his paws in a dignified manner, then sauntered off towards the windowsill. 

“Live to fight another day, you smug bastard,” Veronica called after him. She turned back to Evan and fixed him with her glittering brown eyes. “I know you’re young and I know this is hard 

but I need you to promise me you won’t give up.”

Evan felt his face go hot. “I won’t.”

She nodded. “I guess I’ll see you soon. 2005, to be specific.”

“Right,” Evan said, with a sinking feeling. “I guess I will.”

“Don’t be late. Second door on the left.”

Evan opened his mouth to reply, but Veronica turned away and slipped inside. 

“Pepper, get OFF the curtains!” was the last thing Evan heard before the door swung shut and he was left alone. 

“Where to, Hansen?”

Evan rubbed his face.

“Let’s start with the park. You said they went hiking?”

“That’s what it looks like. Ellison State Park. Just a few days from now.”

“Oh,” Evan said numbly. “Great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I have no idea where Ellison State Park is but for the sake of plot we are assuming it is nearby.


	12. You Can’t See it But They’re All in Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellison State Park, Summer 2015. 
> 
> Did I even make a sound?

It was the muggiest day in recent memory and a drowsy silence lay over the park. 

Families who under normal circumstances would have flooded the picnic tables and swarmed over the food trucks parked next to the gates were instead lunching in the shade by the water; moms in big floppy hats and round sunglasses sat handing out ham sandwiches to their kids, or sat watching their children splash in the shallow sandy bank. It was not a very busy day, by park standards, and the seagulls who were perhaps the only ones to really enjoy the presence of hordes of tourists were noticeably on edge. 

Connor parked his aunt’s Pontiac in a shady spot in the far corner of the lot and stepped out. He’d let Veronica off at the gate so she could pay and she strode towards him now with a little yellow ticket in her hand to put on the dash. 

“Fuck, it’s hot,” she said, combing back her short brown hair. She was dressed in a flowing peasant blouse, a pair of cut-off jeans, and thick-soled men’s hiking boots. “Where’s my water bottle?”

Connor jutted his chin towards the backseat where Veronica’s red and purple knapsack sat, two small water bottles were strapped to either side. 

“Ahh, that’s the ticket,” she said taking a long drink. “We should find a map of this place, eh?”

Connor, who had little enthusiasm for hiking, shrugged. He didn’t particularly care if they got lost because at least it would mean something interesting happened. 

He was not dressed for hiking; having refused to shed his ripped jeans and hoodie for something lightweight and having brought no other boots except the scuffed Dr Martens on his feet, he wasn’t going to enjoy this even if he tried. 

 

Evan had ridden along in painfully awkward silence, tucked away in the backseat next to the daypacks, and watched the countryside unfold around them. He knew the way to Ellison Park by memory having worked there most of the summer yet he was not eager to be going back. 

Not today of all days, at least. 

He lagged behind the others as they headed down one of the forest trails. Soon they were enveloped in trees and the sounds of people had fallen away and the only sounds were the birds, the wind, and the crunch of boots on the path. 

After about an hour, they had reached a rocky clearing that overlooked the lake, and Veronica proposed lunch. Connor was drenched in sweat. He threw off his backpack and immediately shucked off his hoodie. 

“God, yes,” he said, panting. He strode to the shore and promptly stuck his head under the water. After a moment, he flung his head back and sent a shower of cold droplets flying. He was flushed, soggy, and smiling. “That felt good.”

Veronica wiped off her sunglasses where they’d been splattered. “I’m so glad,” she said wryly. 

Water sluiced down Connor’s chest turning his t-shirt transparent. He sheepishly retreated back to land. 

They ate. 

 

Evan wandered away, heading down to the rocky shore. There was a meagre breeze rippling across the water, he could see it mussing up the trees.

They were in a stand of oak trees, the tallest ones he’d ever seen, and Even reached up to brush the gnarled limb of the nearest one. Oaks were his mother’s favourite tree, she said they were the wisest trees. 

At Christmas, she always added dried acorns to their popcorn garland instead of cranberries. It was the leaf Evan learn to draw first, every picture he brought home from kindergarten had the same ingredients: stick people, bluejays, and oak leaves. Oaks had a lot of footholds, they were great for climbing. 

His fingers passed through the limb. 

Evan turned back towards the clearing where Connor and Veronica were finishing their hummus wraps. They were talking in low voices, sitting about two feet apart, it seemed amicable until Evan got close enough to hear what they were saying. 

Connor was wringing out his hair with both hands. He wore a pained smile -- a manic smile Evan had been on the receiving end of more than once. 

Veronica was adamant to get her point across. “I never meant for you to hear that, Con,” she said urgently. “But it doesn’t mean I can just lie about how I feel. You worry me.”

“I scare you,” he retorted. “Be honest--no point sugar coating it now.”

Veronica shook her head and started packing up their lunch things. Connor grabbed her wrist. 

“Admit it.”

“I never said that, Connor,” she snapped. “If you’d been listening--”

“Oh, I was listening. God, I can’t believe I thought you were different.”

Veronica’s head snapped up. “Excuse me? Connor, I am in your corner.”

“Sure, you know, except you think I’m a danger to society. You think I must be off my meds. You’re just like everyone else--all the kids at school who treat me like--like some freak.”

“So, what? I’m not allowed to be concerned about you? I’m just supposed to laugh it off and turn the music up? I’ve been through what you’re living Connor--do you not see that?”

“You have no idea what I’m going through,” he snarled. “God, you’re just like Mom.”

He turned sharply and struck off down the slope. Veronica hastily threw their bags together and ran after him. 

“Connor!”

After a moment, Evan couldn’t hear them anymore. There were only the birds and the slight groaning of the trees in the breeze. 

What a mess it was turning out to be--and the worst part was Evan couldn’t even blame it on Connor’s behaviour. He had always thought of him as this strange and angry force that lurked the hallways--tough, hardcore, solid Teflon--but if anything Connor was too soft, too emotional. His problem wasn’t that he couldn’t feel, couldn’t empathize it was that he empathized too much, he felt too much and too deeply. 

Every insult was a wound, every piece of affection overpowering--he didn’t do anything by halves. 

But the more Evan thought about what had happened the less it made sense, and the more he thought about Connor the more his head hurt. It had been pounding, a dull and thunderous ache since Veronica showed up. 

“Jared,” he said. “Is there anything you can do about this pain in my head?”

“Let me look through the manual,” he said. 

“Have you heard from Alana?”

Jared paused. “Uh. No. She’s only been gone about twenty minutes though.”

“Twenty minutes? No, no, no it’s been way longer than that!”

“Ev, you’re time travelling. Twenty minutes feels like hours to you. Don’t stress about it.”

Evan wandered towards the path where Connor and Veronica had disappeared but he couldn’t bring himself to go on. It was like he was walking through wet sand, his arms ached and his feet scuffed the dirt. 

Then, over the wind, he heard a sound. 

It wasn’t a bird although it was soft and high-pitched like a chickadee. It wasn’t a scream per se. More like an involuntary squeak. It was definitely human. 

And there it came again. Carried on the wind. It was someone crying. 

Evan knew what the word keening meant--it was the sound the wind made when it raced through the trees, it was the sound Mrs Murphy made at Connor’s funeral--but he’d never really understood how terrible it sounded until he was standing under a forty-foot white oak tree listening to himself weep.

Forty feet up, a pair of scuffed up New Balance sneakers were dangling among the leaves. He could just make out the blue and green Ellison Park uniform he loved so much. He couldn’t have been more than twenty feet from where Connor and Veronica had camped for lunch. 

So near and yet they might as well have been a million worlds away. 

And Evan felt a rush of blood to his head because this was it. This was the moment. And here he was, in the nick of time, to stop it. 

Maybe things can be different, maybe I can change things for me too. As soon as the words entered Evan’s brain, he knew he had to try and knew he had no plan. 

Veronica. He had to find Veronica. 

She could talk him down, he could tell her just what to say. But, God, she was so far away. 

He screamed. He shouted. 

He pleaded, “VERONICA! VERONICA, PLEASE!”

But no one answered. Veronica--the one person who could hear him was too busy with Connor. 

Connor, who he was supposed to be saving. 

Connor, who was standing on the edge. 

Connor, who everyone knew needed help, who wore his damage on his sleeves, who showed it off in his scary music and red-ringed eyes. 

Connor fucking Murphy. 

Maybe things could be different, maybe everything would work out. But no. Not for Evan. 

Then Jared’s voice filled his ear. “Evan, calm down, okay? Take some deep breaths, buddy.” 

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

A terrible static filled Evan’s ears. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“JARED?”

“Evan, what’s going o-”

The static sound like a scream--high and piercing. Evan’s head snapped up just in time to see a flash of green and blue tumble through the branches. The pain in Evan’s head spiked. He doubled over, sinking to knees and clutching at his temples. 

“JAAAARED?”

Silence. 

 

Through bleary eyes, Evan saw himself --his younger self--lying crumpled under the tree, crying and numb. 

No one was coming to get him. 

And under the haze of the pain and tears, Evan felt suddenly furious. He writhed under the intensity of it, his entire body was filled with rage. No one was coming to get him. No one would notice he was missing for hours. 

When his arm went numb, Evan would pick himself up and walk back to the office. 

Why was he wasting all this time on Connor when he couldn’t even save himself? Why didn’t he matter to anyone? There was no Auntie running after Evan. 

Evan, who hid all his self-hatred under a nervous smile. 

Evan, who couldn’t even kill himself without fucking it up. 

Then the pain reared up wracking his body with sharp jolting pain, it was like he was being electrocuted. Rewired from the inside out. And even Jared had abandoned him now. 

No one was coming to get him. 

 

And then a shadow passed in front of Evan’s eyes. And Larry Murphy stood over him with a terrible smile on his face. 

“Hello, Evan Hansen.”

Evan sat up. The pain was a fog that dulled his brain an slowed his tongue. Slowly the agony subsided. “M-Mr Murphy?”

“No, Evan,” Mr Murphy said patronizingly. “I’m an embodiment of the supercomputer running this simulation; I chose a face from your memories than conducted the most authority and inspired the most trust.”

“Oh?”

“You can call me the Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor...or, if you prefer, SQUIP.”

Evan blinked. Whatever this was-- it wasn’t good. 

A pair of strong hands gripped him under the arms and hauled him to his feet.

“Now, get up,” the SQUIP said, clapping him on the back. “We’ve got work to do.”


	13. To Break in a Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The SQUIP shows Evan things that *could* be...

There were so many things Evan loved about Zoe Murphy but he especially loved her smile. She had the perfect smile--a lopsided grin that made her nose crinkle and her eyes go all squinty. Completely genuine. She made things like a late-season baseball game make Evan’s heart race just because it made her smile. 

The stadium was teeming with people, a fact that normally would have sent Evan into a panic attack, but with Zoe holding his hand none of that mattered. They had great seats looking right down into the diamond, right behind second base. Evan had bought the tickets for their anniversary--two years dating. Zoe loved baseball, it was something her she and her dad shared and that made it all the more special. 

Sweat dripped down Evan’s neck. Everything about the afternoon had been perfectly easy, except for the fact that Evan couldn’t remember how he got there in the first place.   
Zoe seemed real. She was sitting next to him, hand resting casually on his thigh as she pointed out the new scoreboards they’d installed over the summer. 

For a local stadium, she was saying, they really did a good job. 

But her voice sounded far away as if she was speaking through a bad phone connection. He knew what she was saying but he couldn’t actually hear it.   
Evan shook his head, trying to clear it. There was a terrible ringing in his ears, like the whine of an overheating computer. Maybe it was just cicadas. 

Zoe turned her dazzling smile on him and offered him a sip of her beer. 

Oh. Beer. Right, because he was an adult? 

So, she was saying, tell me all about this crazy professor of yours! I can’t believe they would hire someone that radical to work at a school like Yale!

Yale?

Evan rubbed his face----and, um, WHAT?

Instead of his usual complexion--a sticky sweaty cheek with the saddest dusting of peach fuzz--, his fingers scratched at a layer of thick stubble. He had a beard? 

Zoe was looking at him funny. You okay, Hansen?

“Totally.” 

The stadium seemed real, too. But Evan didn’t know anything about what the professors were like at Yale. Did he get into YALE? Who paid for that? Not his Mom, that’s for damn sure. 

Evan’s head had started to feel heavy….

And then, Evan saw him. And it all made sense. 

Zoe was slapping his leg in excitement. It’s starting! The stadium erupted in cheers. 

Across the aisle, holding up a foam hand reading #1 FAN, was Larry Murphy. Except, not really Larry Murphy, because he was pretty sure Mr Murphy didn’t wear black turtlenecks and shiny metallic Oxfords. 

“This is nice, isn’t it, Evan?” the SQUIP said, sliding into the seat next to Zoe. “Out on a date with your giiiiirlfriend, the exquisite Zoe Murphy? You’re in college. You’ve even managed to grow facial hair. Good. For. You.”

Evan glanced at Zoe but she was oblivious to the shade of her father sitting right next to her. She was cheering as the teams ran onto the field. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair caught in a breeze Evan couldn’t feel. 

“Maybe you’ll even get some tonight. Zoe’s bed is just a double but I’m sure you’ll both fit.” The SQUIP hit Evan over the head with the foam hand and winked lewdly. 

“Ok--no, stop.” Evan’s face was hot, there was a sick feeling in his guts. “What’s going on?”

Zoe turned to look at him. Do you want me to explain the rules to you again?

“Shut up,” the SQUIP said. “Talk to me in your head.” 

“No, no, no,” Evan said, to Zoe. “Thanks, though.”

Zoe grinned and rolled her eyes. She kissed Evan the jaw, then licked his ear. He squealed and she cackled before reaching for her beer and turning her attention back to the game. 

The SQUIP was giving him a look with raised eyebrows. “See? She’ll put out, just wait.”

‘Stop talking about Zoe like that, God.’

“You’ve always had a thing for the Murphy’s, haven’t you?”

‘I’ve had a thing for Zoe since ninth grade….’

The SQUIP rolled his eyes. “This is your future, Evan. Isn’t this the good life? Haven’t you always wanted this? To be dating Zoe Murphy?”

‘Well. Yeah.’

“Wanna see some more?

 

……

 

Evan didn’t recognize the room Mrs Murphy lead him to until it was too late. 

 

After the game, Zoe had driven them home and Cynthia had received Evan with a squeal and a spine-popping hug. 

You look so GROWN UP! Such a MAN! 

She hugged him again. Evan’s nose was filled with her perfume. It was called ‘Happiness’ by Clinique; he’d bought her a bottle for Christmas apparently. She took his coat--a leather jacket--and asked him what he wanted to drink. 

The Harrises brought over this delicious red. Oh, Evan, I know you’ll love it. 

She poured him a glass and Evan, to his astonishment, sipped it. Zoe sat next to him on the sofa and smiled. 

Cheers. 

They clinked glasses. And then she leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. 

Ahem.

Larry Murphy, the real one, dressed in a grey t-shirt and a pair of slacks, stepped into the living room holding a platter of hors-d'oeuvres. Zoe stood up and took the platter from his hands, giving him an innocent smile. 

Am I going to be hearing any good news today, young man?

Evan blinked. Zoe answered for him. 

DAAAAD! We’ve only been dating two years. Besides, Ev wants to travel before we settle down, right, babe?

When you’re done college, I hope. 

Evan thankfully was spared answering. His head was spinning. 

Cynthia bustled into the room then, wine glass in hand, and settled on the to loveseat next to her husband. She rested a loving hand on his shoulder and turned all her sparkling affection on Evan. 

So, tell me all about this crazy professor of yours! How was your first year at Yale?

 

Later, when she showed him up to the guest room, Evan was sufficiently dazed to not notice exactly which room he was being led to. The walls were no longer blue but instead a soft cream with gold accent trim. Even the glow-in-the-dark stars had been scraped from the ceiling. 

There was no trace of Connor Murphy left. 

 

As soon as Cynthia closed the door, Evan started freaking out. The SQUIP lounged lazily on the bed--a neat single dressed in cream and gold sheets--and laughed as Evan reeled. 

“What. Is. Going. On?”

“Keep your voice down,” the SQUIP snapped. “I told you. This is the future you’re passing up.” 

“What future? This is not my life!”

The SQUIP leapt to his feet suddenly and advanced on Evan. “This is but a taste of what you could have, what you can still have, if you act correctly, Evan. Look around you. Don’t you see how happy everyone is? Can’t you see how much better everyone’s life--how much better your life--got after Connor died?”

“Why does Connor need to die in order for me to belong? What does his death have to do with me dating Zoe? With me going to Yale?”

The SQUIP smirked. “Everything. It had everything to do with it. Connor dying is the best thing that ever happens to you, buddy.”

“No,” Evan said, hoarse. “No, I refuse to accept--”

“Let me paint you the picture. Remember that letter you wrote? The one you’re trying to make sure Connor’s parents never saw? That letter was the stone that started the avalanche--that letter was just the beginning. 

Zoe loves you because you told her how much Connor secretly loved her; Mommy Murphy loves you because you told her how great a person her fucked-up kid was; Daddy Murphy loves you because you’re the son he always wanted but never got.”

“None..none of that is true, though, is it?”

“No, Evan. You lied.”

“So this is all a lie. It’s all built on a lie.”

“It doesn’t have to be. It’s not a lie if you believe it, Evan.”

“But it is! I never knew Connor!”

“Doesn’t matter. There’s nothing of Connor left except the lies you told about him,” the SQUIP said quietly. “They repainted his room. He’s only been dead two years.” 

Evan sat down. 

“What about college? Is that...is that at least true?”

“Sure it is,” the SQUIP said. “But it was Connor’s trust fund that paid for it. Face it, Ev, Connor Murphy dying was the best thing that ever happened to you. Why would you want to bring him back? Why the fuck would you try to save him?”

Evan began to cry.


	14. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan reevaluates his choices -- the SQUIP isn't pleased.

A picture on the wall. Ashes on the mantle. A yearly visit to the orchard. 

All that was left of Connor Murphy could be summed up in those three things, well, that and the boxes in the attic. 

Evan found himself alone in the Murphy’s house the next day--Zoe and Larry had gone out to get groceries and Cynthia was out running with her weekend group of neighbourhood moms--and he sat in the spotless kitchen, head in his hands. 

The SQUIP sat on the counter, clicking his tongue. 

“I don’t know why you’re upset, Evan,” he said.

Evan glared at him. “You don’t?”

The SQUIP hopped down and padded over to where Evan sat. He put a hand on Evan’s shoulder and leaned close to his ear. “Would you like to go back to being the loser?”

“Geek, actually.”

“Whatever.”

“I just don’t understand….I don’t understand why...why the Murphy’s love me, why they want me?”

“Believe me, I was shocked, too,” he drawled. “But listen, are you gonna look a gift SQUIP in the mouth?”

“I just--” Evan said. He deflated. He could place what exactly was wrong, but something wasn’t right. 

The door opened. 

Evan braced himself--what if it was Zoe? He couldn’t handle being alone with her right now. As much as he used to fantasize about kissing her, running his hands through her long soft hair...the reality was kind of...unexpected. Maybe it was something to do with the time travel but….Zoe Murphy wasn’t the centre of his daydreams anymore. When she touched him it felt nice...but not that kind of nice. Just...friendly nice. 

It was Cynthia. 

“Oh! Evan, hi,” she said, breathlessly. She was dressed in purple capris and matching tank top and white runners. Her long red hair was drawn back in a purple headband. She was sweating. “Oh, lord, grab me some water, won’t you, honey?”

She plunked herself down at one of the stools at the island. Evan hurried to the cupboard and fetched the Brita from the fridge. He hoped she didn’t want ice. 

“You feeling okay, Evan?” Cynthia said, setting down the glass. “You look at little down.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. No, I’m fine.”

Cynthia took a long drink of water, then stood and took the glass to the sink. 

“You know,” she said, her back to Evan, “today’s the anniversary.”

Evan blinked. “Anniversary?”

Cynthia turned around and Evan’s heart leapt. Her face was a mask of grief. 

“I’m being silly,” she said, wiping her eyes. 

“No!” Evan said. “Oh my God no.”

“It just feels like I’m the only one who--I mean, I know I’m not really--but it feels like I’m the only one who really misses him.”

“Connor,” Evan said softly. “Today’s the anniversary of ...of Connor...yeah. September 9th.”

The SQUIP stepped in front of Evan’s vision. He rolled his eyes. 

“Women,” he said. “Am I right? Always so fucking emotional.”

But Evan could not say No to Mrs Murphy when she cried, he never could. 

“I remember so many great things about Connor,” he said, unthinkingly. 

Cynthia blinked away her tears. “I was going through his things the other day. Can I show you something?”

Evan nodded.

Cynthia led him to the attic. Evan had never been up there before, it was nothing like the rest of the house. The air was stuffy and hot, what little natural light there was filtered through a blue stained glass window nestled in the north-facing peak. The very air was blue. 

“Here it is,” Cynthia said, kneeling before a box and pulling it open. Inside were Ninja Turtles, a whole toy house designed to look like the sewers complete with plastic radioactive goop on the walls. “Look at these! He loved these little guys...what are they called?”

Evan smiled. “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” he said. 

“Yes,” Cynthia said, shaking her head at her own forgetfulness. “I wish you could have known him back then, Evan. I wish...I wish you could have found him sooner. Loved him longer. Maybe..maybe if he had someone like you…”

She was holding a plastic Raphael in her hand and was trying not to sob. 

Evan pointed. 

“Well, that must have been his favourite one,” he said. “Raphael was the coolest. Everyone thought he was the angry one, everyone thought he was the, uh, asshole but...but he wasn’t...he was just as, just as great as the others.” 

Cynthia’s eyes shone. Evan cast around for something else to offer her--his eyes fell on a stack of old comic books. Perfect. 

“And look Wolverine? I bet he worshipped Wolverine.”

“Oh, he did,” she cried. “The year he turned seven that was his Halloween costume!”

The light in her eyes did last long though. After a moment, her smile faded and the worried look came back. 

Evan frowned. 

“Sometimes,” he whispered. “Sometimes, I think about how things could have been different...if I could have done something…”

“Oh, Evan, no,” she said, drawing him closer. “Don’t think that way. No one wishes things were different more than me but...but we can’t change the past, honey. We just can’t. We have to live with our choices.”

 

Downstairs, the door opened. The sounds of Zoe and Larry laughing as they unloaded the groceries floated up through the ceiling. Blissful, they sounded so happy. So untouched, unaffected.   
And up in the attic, Evan felt Mrs Murphy press her face into his shoulder to stifle a sob. To hide to grief, to conceal her misery. 

Evan had never felt more alone and never more certain about what he had to do. He needed to get back on track--he needed to save Connor Murphy. 

Whether the supercomputer liked it or not.   
…..

“What. The. Fuck?” the SQUIP said. “Are you out of your mind, Evan? You’re going to give all this up just because Mommy Murphy showed you some dusty-ass dolls from the early 2000s?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Evan said. 

“I really don’t. And you know what? It doesn’t matter what you want. This is my simulation and what I say--goes.”

“Excuse me?” Evan said. “You’re a computer--you’re not even real!”

“You say you wanna give up the lie? You don’t want the good life?”

“I don’t want my life to be built on a lie!”

“Tough. You don’t wanna live the good life--I’m gonna make your life a living hell.”

“What?”

“Come with me, little Hansen. Let me show you your real life--let me show you the mess you made.”


	15. Why Do You Think We Had It Discontinued?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana makes an entrance!

The racoons had gotten into the carrots. 

Evan stood on the back porch of the house he grew up in, staring out at his gardens. Well, they weren’t his gardens anymore. 

His Mom had sold the house. 

A young couple with a baby had bought the house; they didn’t have time to garden, to weed the carrot patch, to scare away the racoons when they wriggled under the gap in the fence. The grass was brown, the soil baked under the summer heat. 

Nothing would grow there now. 

Evan slipped away, retreating down the driveway. He was floating now, invisible to the world, walking through a half-formed memory. 

At the end of the driveway, a U-Haul truck was parked. 

The back of the truck was open and inside was his life---boxes of books and video games, his favourite armchair turned on his side and wrapped in plastic, a box of spatulas and whisks and spoons, and there, under a sheet of plastic, his window garden. Or, the little hanging basket he kept his herbs in...or used to. It was empty now and wiped clean. 

The front door slammed making Evan jump. His Mom stood on the porch, cell phone to her ear, foot tapping. She looked worried, she looked tired. 

“C’mon, Evan pick up...pick up...Shit,” she muttered. 

Then in a bright voice, she said, “Hi honey, it’s Mom. Look, I know you’re busy with your job and everything but, um, I just wanted to let you know I got all the packing done. I got it all in the truck so you don’t need to come by and help...if you were going to...I mean I thought you were going to, but...maybe we got our wires crossed...or something. I know how busy you are. Anyway, please call me. I want to hear your voice. Okay? It’s just Mom. Give me a call, Evan. Love you, bye.”

She ended the call and put her phone in her pocket. Then, she took it out again and dialled a number, 

“Hi--oh, who is this? This is Heidi Hansen. Oh, hi, Jared. Just who I wanted to talk to actually. No, no, no don’t get your mom. Jared, have you--is Evan---have you heard from Evan?”

A long pause. 

“Well, I thought you were friends...Oh. Oh, I see. No, I haven’t called her yet, I don’t have Zoe’s number. So he’s home--when did he get back? Oh, last week, right. No, I knew that. No, I guess he forgot. No, no, no I’m fine, I got it all packed without him. Yeah, no, I’m sure he’s just busy with..with the Murphy’s. Okay, great-- Okay, thanks bye.” 

She hung up. Heidi was biting her lip, nose scrunched up, and tilted her head back. 

Then she sniffed, stood up, and grabbing her keys strode over to the U-Haul. She looked at the pieces of her life sitting there in plastic sheets for a long moment. 

Then she pulled the door shut, locked it, and climbed into the driver’s seat. 

Evan watched his Mom drive away. He felt like puking. 

 

Then he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. The SQUIP stood next to him. 

“It’s like you don’t even exist here,” he said, smirking. “Can’t you see how quickly she moved on without you. And there she goes, in a U-Haul, no less. Is this really the life you’re going to run back to? To a Mom who won’t give you the time of day. To a best friend who hates you. What do you think is going to happen if you cut all your ties to the Murphy’s? I’ll tell you what won’t happen: college, dating Zoe, that car the Murphy’s bought you--none of it.” 

“I don’t care,” Evan said. “Get me out of this--Just let me go!”

“I’ve given you a glimpse of everything you ever wanted! Why are you throwing that away?”

“I’m not going to live a lie anymore. I’m not going to lie...to the Murphy’s, to my mom, to Jared, to Alana...to anyone. I’m done. Get me off this ride.”

The SQUIP began to clap slowly. 

“Well aren’t you mature?” he snarked. “But maybe you’ve forgotten, you don’t have Jared and Alana anymore. I’m in control here.” Evan’s heart raced. 

Jared. He needed to get through to Jared. 

“JARED! GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

“I’m going to improve your life, Evan, even if I have to reorder time to do it.”

At the edge of his vision, Evan saw a pale yellow light start to glow. Growing stronger. The SQUIP was pulling him in. Evan scrambled, fiddling with the earpiece. 

“JARED! ALANA! SOMEONE!”

Then several things happened at once. 

From above, a strange laugh crackled through the heavens. 

The light turned red and took on the consistency of syrup. 

Evan blinked. 

Rain poured from the sky--but like no rain he had ever seen. It was red … and carbonated. 

“What the fuck---” 

Evan couldn’t see how this could possibly be good. He was having vivid flashbacks to Bible school. But since when did rain fizz? 

But then the SQUIP started screaming and the world around them started to collapse. Evan felt spongy earth beneath his feet and smelled pine trees. 

And then warmth filled his ear. 

“Now, that’s what I call an entrance,” Alana said, laughing.


	16. Careful The Things You Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2005: the year everything started falling apart.

“Do the words ‘Evan could die’ mean nothing to you, Jared Kleinman?” Alana’s voice rang like a shot in Evan’s ears. 

The pounding in his head had finally gone, but it was threatening to come back as he listened to Jared and Alana fight. 

“He’s fine! You’re fine, right, Evan?” 

Evan was sitting cross-legged under a pine tree back in Ellison State Park. “I don’t think I should get involved,” he muttered.

“Oh, now he shows some common sense,” Alana crowed. “Where was that when you were hopping through Connor’s timeline like a kid on a hopscotch?”

“Alana, you don’t understand--”

“No, I understand perfectly, Evan. And look, I know you meant well and you didn’t know what you were doing. JARED on the other hand--” her voice ratcheted up “--knew DAMN well what could have happened and let you do it anyway. Life and death, Kleimann, this was life or death! If I hadn’t figured out how to disable the safeguard--”

“You’re telling me that psychopath was supposed to be here?”

“--I had to call Rich, who had to call Jeremy who had to call Michael just to figure out how to turn it off. Do you KNOW how many minutes I used on my plan to call New Jersey long distance?”

“Well, uh--”

“And you’re damn lucky I could find this--considering it’s been discontinued since 1988!”

“Yeah, what exactly did you pour in the tank, Alana? I still feel sticky.”

A strange laugh crackled in Evan’s ear and a deep voice said, “Oh, you’re welcome. I always do my research and ever since last year I almost always got a bottle of Dew on me.”

“Dew? You--You poured Mountain Dew Red in the tank?”

“Don’t question it, dude,” the stranger said. 

“You should just be grateful Michael was still in town, Evan.”

“Right. Uh, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Michael said, laughing. 

“Anyway, Evan, I think we should pull you out of the simulation now,” Alana was saying, hands flying over the command board. “Your vitals look wonky--are you feeling okay?”

“No, --I mean--I feel fine, but you can’t take me out yet. I have to see this through--I have to at least try.”

Jared’s voice sounded distant as if he was far away from the microphone. “Alana, he’s right. We’ve come this far...he should see it through.”

“Evan, it’s dangerous. The sim was never meant to be pushed this far--I may have deactivated the safeguard but...that doesn’t mean you’re not still susceptible.”

“Alana, please.” 

A long pause stretched out before him. Evan heard the wind in the trees and far below him, down the rocky slope, he could see Veronica standing by the water. She stared out across the lake, watching the late afternoon sun slip away. The dying light cast long shadows on the trees. 

“Okay, Evan,” Alana said, softly. “What do you want to do?”

“I know where we need to go,” he murmured. “All this time, I’ve known, I guess I was just too afraid to do it…”

He stood up. Veronica turned, hand shielding her face, and peered up into the trees. Before he vanished, Evan swore he saw her smile. 

…..

June 2005 

Evan could have recognised his grade-two classroom by smell alone--crayons, carpet cleaner, and salami. That’s what Mrs Gianni’s room always smelled like to him. 

He climbed the final set of stairs leading to the elementary wing of the school and faced down a long hallway with speckled brown tile. Everything looked smaller than he remembered, the water fountains were miniature. Room 202 was on the left. 

It was recess. Evan could hear the sounds of playful screaming, shouting, and the rhythmic twang of a rubber dodgeball smacking the tarmac from beyond the open window. The rain that had been falling all morning had tapered off, and the kids swarmed the recess yard like industrious ants. All except for two. 

Evan had forgotten about this day. In the grand scheme of things he supposed it was pretty insignificant--most people wouldn’t bother about one day when they were seven but Evan was dismayed to realize June 14th 2005 had all but disappeared from his adult memory. 

Now, watching his tiny seven-year-old self sit at his desk, colouring, he felt a pang of regret for what was about to happen, knowing he was not going to remember it later. 

On the other side of the room, hunched over a paperback, was Connor Murphy. Seven-year-old Connor Murphy wearing blue jeans and a red Spiderman t-shirt. His ruddy hair was cut short and gelled into perfect frosted spikes, his jammy face splattered with freckles. 

The classroom was joined via an archway with room 204 and Evan could hear Mrs Gianni’s brown Mary Janes clacking on the tile as she went about organizing the classroom for next period. It was silent except for the rustling of pages and the occasional squeak of a washable marker. Evan wandered into the classroom. 

He couldn’t remember why he was kept inside from recess...until he got a closer look at his younger self. It was the same reason he was kept inside from gym class now. Little Evan’s left arm was wrapped in a cast. 

Oh. Right. This was the year of the car accident. That would have been in January….that means this was the year….

Evan took a shaky breath as he watched Little Evan start colouring Wolverine’s uniform in a bright neon yellow. 

This was the year Dad left. 

The accident, the constant fights between Mom and Dad, the U-Haul truck in the driveway, a colouring book that arrived in the mail with no card but a half-scribbled ‘Love You’ from Dad in Colorado. Yeah, no wonder grade two was a blur. This was the year everything started falling apart. 

Little Evan set down his markers and rooted around in his knapsack. He pulled out a Spiderman Tupperware container and pried it open to reveal a Wowbutter-and-jam-sandwich with the crusts cut off. Across the room, Connor made an annoyed noise. 

Little Evan looked up, chewing thoughtfully. 

“What?” he said, mouth full. 

Connor huffed and didn’t look up from his book. “You’re breaking my concentration. And it’s not even snack time.”

“So? I’m hungry. What’d you bring for snack?”

Connor glanced up. He slid his book closed and turned around to look through his bag. 

He groaned. “Hummus and celery! Not again!”

Little Evan cackled. “What’s hummus?”

“I don’t know but it’s disgusting.”

“Do you want half of my PB and J?”

“It’s not really peanut butter, is it??”

“No, it’s soy butter.”

“Okay. ‘Cause I’m allergic.”

“To soy?”

“No, stupid. To peanuts.”

Evan stood up and walked over to where Connor sat. He hopped up on the desk and offered his sandwich. “You have Spiderman on your shirt.”

“Yeah,” Connor said, taking a bite of sandwich. “So?”

Evan shrugged. He didn’t have a point he just wanted to say it. “You can look at my colouring book if you want,” he said, bring that over too. “And my Mom bought me these--Stinky Markers!”

“My sister has those but hers are pink. One of them smells like ice cream.”

“I like the grape one,” Evan said, yanking the cap off the purple marker and sniffing it. “Here, smell.”

Connor leaned in. 

“OOPS!” There was a long purple streak under Connor’s nose. “Sorry!”

“You did that on purpose!”

“NO, I DIDN’T!”

Both boys froze as the sound of Mrs Gianni’s footsteps approached, then receded. 

 

Evan was shaking with laughter, then paused and gave Connor a serious look. 

“I still can’t believe you smashed Mrs G’s printer,” he said reverently. 

“You’re not even in my class--how did you hear about that?”

Evan shrugged. “Jared told me during computer lab.”

Connor scrunched himself down lower in his seat, scowling. Evan gazed at him patiently. 

“Wanna sign my cast?” he said after a minute. “No one else has so you’d be the first. You can draw something on it if you want but don’t do what Jared tried to do. He tried to draw a penis and Mrs G told him he was harassing me.”

Connor watched Evan impassively. “You--You want me to?”

“Well, I mean if you waaaaaant to. I’m not gonna make you.”

“No, I want to!”

Evan grabbed his pencil case and unzipped it. “Pick a Stinky one! I want my arm to smell like fruit!”

Connor picked the black one. Liquorice. And in huge letters wrote C-O-N-N-O-R and underneath added ‘Your Best Friend Ever.’ He recapped the marker and handed it back to Evan. 

Evan promptly sniffed his cast. “Liquorice! Disgusting!” 

“Pick another one,” he said, holding out the pencil case. 

“Okay,” Connor said, sitting up and rooting through the markers. He grabbed the purple one. “Come here.”

Fifteen minutes later, Evan’s little cast was covered in a rainbow assortment of doodles and graffiti S shapes which Connor was great at drawing. He sniffed his cast. 

“I think my nose is broken,” he said, laughing. 

“Your nose is broken?” Connor crowed. “That’s so stupid.”

A step on the landing brought them both up short. Evan whirled around and was dismayed to see the stony form of Larry Murphy standing in the archway. 

“Connor,” he said, voice booming. “Watch your tone, son.”

Mrs Gianni appeared. “Oh! Mr Murphy, hi, I’m Rachel Gianni. Connor’s teacher. Let’s sit over here, shall we? I was under the impression Cynthia would be coming to pick up Con--”

“No, my wife had to take my daughter to guitar lessons. What’s Connor done, now?”

As they stepped around the corner, voices fading, Evan watched Connor sink back down in his chair. This was not Connor’s year either. 

“Was that your Dad?” 

“Unfortunately,” Connor muttered. “I thought Mom was coming to pick me up. Not him.”

“He’s so tall! Is he rich?”

“I don’t know. He’s a lawyer.”

“My Mom wants to be a lawyer.”

“She shouldn’t. Lawyers are assholes.”

Little Evan’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Oh, yeah, right. Duh.”

“Is that any way to talk about your Auntie?” a voice said from behind them. 

Veronica Sawyer stepped into the classroom. Had it not been for her voice, Evan wouldn’t have recognised her. Gone were the paint-splattered jeans and t-shirts and hiking boots--in their place was a sharp 3-piece suit and a red ascot. Her hair was long and straightened and shiny and she wore a pair of small square-framed glasses. 

“Hey, kiddo,” she said, grinning. 

“AUNTIE!” 

Connor was out of his seat and across the room in a flash. He lodged in Veronica’s arms like a compass finding North and she embraced him as if he were her own child. 

“What’s on your face, kid?” She licked her thumb and gave his marker-stained face a spit-wash. 

“GROSS!” 

Veronica cackled. “I just landed this morning and I thought I’d come to stay with you guys for a bit. How’s that sound? Your Dad and I had a killer case last week and we both decided we needed some Connor-time.”

Connor’s face sank. “You mean, you did. Dad didn’t say that.”

“Sure he did, kiddo. Why do you think we’re both here? We came straight from the airport.”

Connor shook his head, slipping out of his aunt’s arms. “Dad’s only came because Mrs G told him I’m in trouble.”

Veronica ran a hand over Connor’s spiky head. “No, buddy. Would I lie to you?”

Connor’s face slipped into a scowl. He slunk back to his desk and started packing up his things. Veronica followed, straightening out her jacket and skirt. 

“Hello, hello,” she said, noticing Little Evan perched on the desk. He was stacking his markers end-to-end to make a long sword-shaped stick. “And who are you?.”

Evan swung the marker-sword which promptly collapsed as it collided with Connor’s shoulder. 

“I’m a Jedi,” he said. 

“Ouch! EVAN!”

“Quiet, Darth Maul!”

“I’m NOT Darth Maul. I TOLD you, I’m Luke!”

“No, I think you’re more like Anakin,” Evan snapped. 

Veronica turned then and seeing Evan, older Evan, for the first time standing by the chalkboard, her eyes flew wide. Her gaze roamed from his heart-broken face to his grass-stained khakis then lingered on the cast on his arm where Connor’s name burned like a beacon. 

“Boys, C'mon, stop fighting,” she said, breathlessly. 

“Connor? Listen to your aunt,” Larry said, stepping back into the classroom, followed by Mrs G. “What’s this about damaging school property, son? Thanks to you I owe Mrs Gianni here a new printer.”

“Oh, no--Mr Murphy, that’s not what I--”

“Losing your temper has consequences, young man. I think your allowance should go towards replacing the printer, don’t you?”

“DAD?! I’m saving up to buy a skateboard---”

“You should have thought about that before you lost control.”

Connor’s tiny freckled face was a mask of rage. “GOD I HATE YOU!”

“Geez, Larry,--” Veronica muttered. “He’s not doing it on purpose.”

“Get your things and get your ass in the car, Connor. And you can forget about T.V. time tonight--you’re going straight to your room when we get home.”

Connor grabbed his bag and threw it across the room, screaming and crying. 

“YOU GO GET IT!” Then he raced from the room. 

“Connor?!” Veronica hurried after him, slowed down by her heels. “Connor, kiddo, wait!”

“For Christ’s sake,” Larry muttered, he pulled out his Blackberry and began tapping on it furiously. 

Little Evan slipped down from the desk and walked over to where Connor’s bag lay open on the carpet. His books, his snacks, and pencils were scattered across the rug; Evan collected each one and put it back in the bag. Then he handed the bag to Mrs Gianni. 

“That was super kind of you, Evan,” she said softly. “Helping Connor get his things together.”

Evan just shrugged. “Connor’s my best friend, that’s what best friends do.”


	17. If You Only Look Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan takes a risk -- and tries to help the Murphys 'Much Ado About Nothing'-style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with me, folks; we're almost at the end! Thank you ALL for your lovely comments and, of course, thank you for your time.   
> I'm honestly so thrilled people are reading this.

December 2012

“I need you guys to trust me on this one,” Evan said. He was standing in the hallway that separated the auditorium from the library, it was evening, and beyond the gym doors, the Christmas talent show was in full swing. Evan stood about three feet away from his sixteen-year-old self watching the sweat bead on his lip. His hands were sweaty, too. 

Alana made an impatient noise. “Evan, I trust you, I totally do. But you said the same thing about the trip to the Kindergarten classroom--”

“Grade two,” Jared interrupted, voice distant. 

“--and I think, well, I’m wondering if you really thought this through,” Alana continued, ignoring Jared. 

Evan swallowed the queasy feeling rising in his guts. Had he thought this through?

Evan wished he could just talk to his younger self. Give him a little...pep talk. God. Tell him it didn’t matter that his hands were sweaty--well. He wouldn’t believe that--he didn’t even believe it now. 

“UGH, why is this so hard?” Evan shouted at himself. “Just go--Just walk through the door. Be confident! March right up to Zoe Murphy and tell her the line you’ve been practising all afternoon. “Hey--great job out there tonight!” and then find a nice comfortable hole to go cry in.”

The other Evan put a hand on the gym door. 

“Wait--no, hey. Listen, let’s think about this a little more.”

In the corner of his eye, Evan saw a dark figure slip past the library window. He turned, intrigued. 

“Evan?” Alana said. “What’s..going on?”

“I have a hunch. Trust me, okay?”

He stepped into his younger body, blending seamlessly into his sixteen-year-old consciousness. And took his hand from the door. 

“I just--I just wanna see who that was,” he murmured. 

Behind him, Zoe’s set was wrapping up. He heard the audience erupt in cheers. But Evan was moving quickly down the hall, away from the gym, towards the door at the end of D-Hall. 

He crashed out into the December night. It was dark in the parking lot, Evan could see only by the lights from the library. He looked around. 

Lounging on the stairs below the library doors, a lean dark figure was muttering to himself and smoking. Evan would recognise those legs anywhere.

“Connor?”

Evan didn’t expect him to answer but realized that, yes, he could hear him. And, oh shit, he heard him. 

A pair of hard blue eyes flickered up. Evan felt like he was standing under a pressure washer. 

“That depends. Who’s asking?”

Why had he said anything? This wasn’t soft Connor who listened to 80’s rock ballads with his aunt, this wasn’t little kid Connor who declared himself Evan’s ‘Best Friend Ever’--this was Connor Murphy, age sixteen. This was the year he got suspended for selling drugs. This was the year he lost his license three months after getting it in the first place….had any of that happened yet? 

“Oh, um, hi.” Was Evan’s masterful attempt at a cool reply. “I’m Ev--”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” Connor said. 

“You know?”

Connor took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled in Evan’s direction. He made no reply, except, “What do you want?”

“I--um,” Evan began. “Why aren’t you at the show?” 

Connor snorted. “I listen to Zoe play her fucking guitar day and night--why the FUCK would I pay to sit and hear her perform? Besides, I think she has enough admirers.”

“You’re her brother, though. She’s only got one of you.”

Connor turned his stony gaze back on Evan, full force. He scanned him, top to bottom, and then laughed. “I doubt she even noticed I’m gone. New flash: Zoe hates me. What is this? Did Zoe send you out here to get back at me or something?”

“Wha-no!”

“Are you even friends with my sister or are you just one of her stalkers?”

“We’re...we’re friends. Totally. She probably doesn’t mention me a whole lot well, because, I mean, as you can see I’m kind of a--”

“Loser?”

“Geek. I was going to say, geek. Or nerd. But loser works.”

Connor’s pale face split into a sardonic grin. “Whatever. Who am I to cast stones, right?”

Evan fidgetted. 

“Was there something else you wanted to say? Or are you just going to squirm all night?”

Evan took a deep breath. This was his chance. 

“I think--I think you’re wrong about Zoe.”

“I don’t think so,” he snarked. 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Evan blurted. Connor paused, eyes burning. “She told me so herself.”

“She told you...what exactly?”

“That she thinks .. she thinks you’re awesome.”

Uh-oh. 

“Awesome?” Connor frowned. He flicked his cigarette butt onto the sidewalk and stood up. He advanced on Evan and stood, a foot away, arms crossed. Evan could smell the smoke on his clothes, the subtle scent of peppermint on his breath. God, he was tall. Connor’s meltwater eyes bore into Evan’s. “How?”

No going back now, Evan. 

He gulped and took a deep breath. 

“Well,” he said. “She mentioned you a couple of times, I mean like twice maximum, it’s not like all we talk about is you…” Why had he said it like THAT? “And um, well, she mentioned that she really felt bad that you guys weren’t close anymore.”

Connor was still frowning. But listening. 

Evan went on. “Look. She said --I’m just repeating what she said--she said you looked pretty..pretty cool when you died your hair black last summer. She wanted to tell you how much it suits you.”

“So why didn’t she?”

“Well...I mean, you’re not exactly approachable.”

Connor pulled a face. “What else did she say?”

“She...she noticed that--yeah,--whenever you get bored you write song lyrics on your arms. And she wondered if you knew that you actually have a really good singing voice ...because she heard you all those times singing along to The Smiths in your room.”

Connor grinned. A genuine, embarrassed grin that he tried to hide behind his hair. “She noticed all that?”

“Zoe thinks you’re the coolest big brother, Connor. I’m only like..an acquaintance of hers...and I know that. She wishes you’d smile more because you’ve got the most amazing smile--it’s just….subtle and perfect and real.” 

Where had that come from? God, he really hoped Jared wasn’t listening. 

Under the dim light, Connor looked at Evan and gave him the barest of smiles. He tucked a strand of black hair behind his crooked ear. Dark hair really did suit him but Evan could still see the other Connor Murphy in his red-brown eyelashes and the freckles splattered across his nose. 

“You don’t really remember me, do you?” Evan said, half to himself. “We were in the same class in Grade Two.”

Connor shook his head. “No, we weren’t. You were in Mrs Soo’s class next door.”

“Yeah,” said Evan softly. “I remember now.”

Connor was looking at him again, not with his usual icy expression but with something softer. “I signed your cast.”

Evan nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. He opened his mouth to speak...but someone beat him to it. 

“THERE you are!”

Zoe Murphy stood at the end of the parking lot, guitar in hand, wearing a big knit scarf around her shoulders. Her eyes were done in sparkly makeup and she looked closer to twenty-five than to fifteen. 

“I’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes! You’re driving me home--Remember?”

Connor snarled, “Against my will.” 

Zoe stormed over. “CONNOR you’re so irresponsible! Hi Evan. I’M SERIOUS I’m calling Dad if you don’t get your butt in gear. Where did you even park the car? Evan--do you need a ride home, we can take you? CONNOR!”

“Calm the fuck down, I’m getting the car.”

…..

Evan found himself in the backseat of the Murphy’s silver SUV, wedged next to Zoe’s guitar before he could blink. Connor drove like a bat out of hell. 

Zoe, for all her hospitality towards Evan, was in a miserable mood. She was downright caustic towards Connor and Evan flinched every time she clashed against him….but Connor kept his temper. They flew down the dark streets at amazing speed, Evan watched the soft lights of the suburbs reflect on the windshield. Families lived behind those curtains, all the little kids were in bed by now. 

After an awkward moment, Evan leaned forward. “I, uh, I live on Oakwood Ave.”

Connor glanced up, easing up on the accelerator.

“Right,” he said and made a U-turn. “Sorry.”

Zoe slid a glance over at her brother then rolled her eyes. She was staring out the window, sparkling under the flashing streetlamps, then reached forward and flicked on the radio. The sound of Neko Case filled the car, soft and driving. Connor shifted in his seat. 

“Turn on something else,” he said quietly. 

“I like this song.”

“Turn it to something else, Zoe,” he snapped. 

“Fuck you,” she replied, turning up the volume. 

Connor’s knuckles were white on the wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror, making sudden eye contact with Evan. He kept forgetting Connor could actually see him this time. Evan braced himself for a fight….but it didn’t come. 

Connor only huffed and eased into the gas station parking lot. 

“We’re running on empty,” he muttered and grabbed his wallet before stepping out of the car. Zoe rested her head on the back of the seat. 

“I’m sorry about my brother,” she said tiredly. “I’m just...I can’t believe he...did he even see my performance?”

Evan bit his lip. “I don’t--”

“It doesn't matter. I don’t know why I keep expecting something different--he’s made it abundantly clear he hates me.” 

“He doesn’t hate you!”

Zoe turned around to look at him. “Are you guys...like…”

“Friends. Yeah, totally.”

She gazed at him a long moment. “Friends. I didn’t think Connor had those.”

“Well, we’re not super close but…”

An awkward pause. 

“How do you know?”

“Know?”

“That he doesn’t hate me?”

Zoe looked small, slumped in the front seat. Under the harsh gas stations lights, she looked all of a scared fifteen. Evan felt his hands start sweating. 

“He told me,” he said. “But like...you know how he is...he won’t ever admit it.”

“Do you guys….talk about me?”

“No. Uh. No, never.”

“Oh.”

“But he’s like mentioned stuff about you before...like in passing.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“He thinks you’re….he thinks you’re awesome.”

She turned all the way around and stared at him. “He thinks I’m awesome? Connor? How?”

Evan took a breath. Lying to make Zoe Murphy feel better was the easiest thing he’d ever done. When he’s finished, she was sitting completely still looking thunderstruck. Her cheeks were flushed under all her sparkly makeup. 

“He really said all that?”

Evan nodded. 

Across the parking lot, Connor strode towards the car hand jammed in his pockets. He slid back into the car.

“What?” he said. 

Zoe shook her head. They sped off. 

“Take the next left,” Zoe murmured. 

Connor blinked. “Right. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Zoe sat back in her seat. She reached down and flicked the radio to Classic Rock, then stared firmly out the window avoiding Connor’s bewildered gaze. 

 

Evan stood on the stoop outside his front door and watched the taillights of the Murphy’s SUV until they turned a corner and vanished into the night. 

“Well,” he said, and stepped away from his sixteen-year-old self. 

“Yeah,” said Alana. The other Evan let himself into the empty house. 

Evan rubbed his face. “That was unexpected.”


	18. A Light That Never Goes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to the cover by Becca Stevens while writing this.

He didn’t know what he was looking for but he knew he would know it when he saw it. Time flew before Evan’s eyes, days flickering in and out of existence like distant stars. 

“Wait,” he said softly. 

The wheel of stars slowed. Evan gazed at the blurry little squares hovering before him--each one a single perfectly contained day. He ran his figurative finger over the month of May, flipping through the weeks as they turned from rainy to sunny, from bleak and grey to green and lush. Connor’s life unfolded before him like a path in the forest--he need only pick the right direction, the right trail -- but which one? 

“There,” he murmured. “That one.”

It was evening--Maple Street was washed in sunset--and the Murphy house was silent. Evan stood in the quiet street, listening to the cicadas sing. Then, taking a deep breath, he floated up the porch steps and into the house. 

It was dark inside the house too--maybe no one was home? Evan passed through the living room--still and silent--and wandered into the kitchen. The silence was so perfect it was almost crystalizing; the whole place had the feeling of a dollhouse, closed up for the night. 

But then Evan heard it. 

At first, he thought it was just the cicadas, a dull musical hum that reverberated through the air, but as he stepped closer to the patio door he could make out two distinct voices. The melody was simple--a progression of sweet and slow chords--and the voices were haunting. 

From the window, Evan could see the remnants of a bonfire smouldering in the grate in the Murphy’s backyard. Did Zoe have friends over? ...Did Zoe have a boyfriend over? The thought settled in Evan’s gut like a block of concrete. 

He slid open the patio door and wandered closer to the fire. He saw scrawny legs slung over the arm of the Adirondack chair--long and clad in black jeans. Connor was wearing sandals. His toes were painted black. 

Evan watched in awe as Connor--looking more like himself now--began to sing, harmonizing with Zoe as they circled the chorus. His eyes were closed, his face serene, as he ran his hands through his damp hair. He looked calmer than Evan had ever seen him. 

Then Evan smelled the weed. Of course the only time the Murphy siblings would get along was when they were stoned. Still. Zoe kept sneaking furtive glances as Connor. He never met her gaze but every time she harmonized closed her eyes and Connor watched her with a proud look in his eyes. 

“I thought you didn’t like my playing,” Zoe said when the song had ended. 

Connor made a non-committal noise. 

“You know….you ...you don’t…,” she began, faltering. Connor cracked an eyelid and gazed at his sister, waiting. “I just mean...I like it like this. When you’re not...when we’re not fighting. It’s nice.”

Connor opened both eyes. He nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

Zoe chewed the inside of her lip. “I know I haven’t been a good sister. I know I’ve blamed you for a lot of shit that you...you couldn’t control. But I want to try again. Do you think we could try again?”

“Zo,” Connor said, hoarse. “I think you can’t handle your high. You’re getting sappy.”

“For fuck sake--”

“But,” he continued, holding up a finger. “I think we could both be better to each other. It’s not just you.”

“I guess that’s as close to an apology as you’re going to get, isn’t it?”

“Probably.”

Zoe shook her head, smiling. She picked up her guitar again and plucked out a melody. 

“You know this one?”

Connor grinned, reaching for another joint and lighting it. “I’m always a slut for the Magnetic Fields.”


	19. Someday When Your Head is Much Lighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we reach a resolution but not an ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For added ambience: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prAoWpWKRkA

September 9th, 2015 

Under the fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room, Cynthia’s face looked ashen. It was approaching dawn and she had been at the hospital since midnight. 

Evan found himself in the chair next to her, weightless and floating. 

In his ear, Alana hesitated to speak. “Evan? Evan, I don’t think we should be here.”

He shook his head. “I have to know.”

Cynthia was on her phone, speaking in a low and wrecked voice. She hadn’t stopped crying since the call came through. She spoke now although it was difficult. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “He seemed fine--he seemed like….things were getting better for him. Am I making this up? What was he like with you?”

She paused, breathing short and fast. She wiped her face on her hoodie sleeve. Yesterday’s makeup smeared the cuff. Fresh tears leaked down her cheeks. “He said that to you? He ...I can’t believe he….”

Warmth filled Evan’s ear. “Evan…”

“No,” he said quietly. “I need to know if ….if this made any difference.”

“You tried, Ev,” she said. “I mean, you did way more than anyone--”

“But did it WORK?”

Cynthia was sobbing, hiccupping in her shock and sudden grief. Then the waiting room doors flew open and Larry Murphy burst in. He sank into the chair by his wife’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Ronnie,” she said “Honey, I gotta go. The doctors want to talk to us. Okay. Yes, I’ll call you as soon as we know. I love you.”

Larry stroked his wife’s hair. It seemed for a moment Cynthia wasn’t going to acknowledge his presence. Then, a fresh wave of hiccupping cries wracked her body, and she slumped into his sturdy embrace. 

“I should have known,” she whispered. “How could I not know?”

Larry did not answer but murmured into her hair, kissing the crown of her head. 

The door opened again. 

Evan’s heart skipped a beat and then thundered twice as fast in his chest. 

His Mom was wearing her duck-printed scrubs--the ones she wore when she worked the child’s unit--but she was here, her face a mask of raw empathy, and she was speaking to the Murphy’s. 

Evan’s ears were thrumming--he tried to listen to Heidi speak but her words were washed away in the tide of his rising anxiety. He’d failed. He’d had to have failed. Why would they send a nurse--a fellow mother--to break the news unless it was the worst kind of news a parent could receive. 

Heidi was crouching down by Cynthia’s knee, breaking the news gently in a soft voice.

The same voice she used to soothe Evan when he got too wound up to sleep. 

The same voice that she used to tell him his Dad was gone and wasn’t coming back any time soon. 

She was such a good nurse--she really looked like she was torn up about the Murphy’s situation, pure and complete empathy bleeding through in every word. 

Who would have broken the news of his death to his Mom? 

The thought was insidious and it wriggled into Evan’s brain unbidden. 

Would his boss have called her? Broke the news over the sound of shouting campers and the rattle of the woodchipper. Would the Park hospital have called her? Left the terrible news on her voicemail to be listened to in wretched silence when it was far too late to do anything but keen. 

How could he have failed? 

“Evan,” Alana said. “I think we should pull you out of the sim. Your heart rate is really worrying me and--”

Evan swallowed the sudden heat welling his throat. “Just--I can’t just--”

“Evan, there’s nothing you could have--”

“I could have tried harder--”

“How? When? Evan, we could spend the rest our lives down here trying to save him. We failed. It’s time to accept that. He’s gone.”

Evan could not speak. His head was roaring. Humming. 

But….

 

It wasn’t just his head. 

Something was actually humming. 

“Do you hear that?” he murmured. “Do you guys--is that--?”

The noise was soft, distant and muffled. But it was unmistakable. He’d heard it before. 

“Evan?” Jared cried. “What the fuck, dude? What do you hear?”

He ran. Evan thundered down the hallway, flying past nurses and medical carts until he reached the room where the noise was coming from. 

Second on the left. 

Zoe Murphy sat curled up in a chair, guitar balanced on her lap. She was singing, fingers gently strumming the chords of a song Evan never realized could be so sad and so happy at the same time. 

 

Someday, we’ll put together and we’ll get it all done.  
Someday, when your head is much lighter  
Someday, we’ll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun  
Someday, when the world is much brighter.

 

And there on the bed was Connor Murphy.  
Connor’s heartbeat was the loudest thing in the room and each breath was a symphony. 

 

….

 

Behind him, Evan barely registered the Murphy’s and his Mom entering the room. He knew his Mom was speaking-- “So he may be a little sore, they had to pump his stomach”--but he couldn’t make sense of any sound but the slow and content sound of Connor Murphy’s heartbeat. 

Alive. He was here, against all odds, still breathing. 

Cynthia moved to the bed and took hold of her son’s hand. She kissed it then turned it over and kissed every scar on his skinny wrist. Evan could barely hear her as she murmured “Thank you God” again and again. 

Larry placed a hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “Thank God for you, Zo. Thank God he knew he could call you.”

Evan caught sight of his Mom leaning against the door. Her eyes had gone crinkly like they always did when she cried. She looked so alone. 

“Okay,” Evan said. “Alana, I’m ready. I’m ready to come out now.”

“Okay,” she replied thickly. Evan couldn’t be sure but it sounded like she was crying. 

As the light at the edge of his vision began to grow--warm and green like sunlight on a spring leaf--Evan saw Connor’s eyes open, blinking in the light. 

And then Evan saw nothing but a rush of bubbles and heard nothing but the thundering sound of the shield drawing back. He broke the surface and gasped for air. 

He was done. He’d done it. 

Connor Murphy lived. 

And now, he was left with just one thing to do.


	20. How Do I Step Into The Sun?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan cries on the couch with his Mom.

“You’re home early, honey. I thought you said you and Jared would be studying all night.”

His Mom was on the couch when Evan walked in; she was watching an Oprah re-run. Evan dropped his bag and toed off his sneakers. 

“No,” he said. “We--uh--finished early.”

It had taken both Jared and Michael to pull Evan’s exhausted body from the tank. Alana had wrapped him in two fluffy blue towels and pressed a Gatorade into his hands, murmuring tearful congratulations in his ear.

When he’d regained his strength Jared drove him home. Alana and Michael stayed behind to lock up--Jared would come to collect them once he dropped Evan off safe. 

Jared had walked him to the door, taken him by the elbow, and pulled him into the fiercest and longest hug Evan had ever received. He felt Jared’s heartbeat against his chest, smelled his Old Spice deodorant, realized this was the first time Jared had ever willingly touched him -- and then it was over. 

Jared got back in the little Prius and drove away, all without saying a word. 

Heidi muted the TV. 

“Oh well, what are you going to do with your evening, then? We could watch a movie?”

His Mom just wanted him to be normal. 

Evan sat down on the couch. “Um, sure.”

His Mom paused in the middle of putting a piece of popcorn in her mouth and looked at him. “You okay, kiddo?”

“I’m kinda shocked you’re home,” he muttered. “I mean, like, good shocked.”

“Oh, did you have other plans?” His Mom sounded way too excited. “Because I can disappear if you were going to have a friend over. I’ll just go upstairs and pretend I’m not even here.”  
His Mom just wanted him to have friends. 

“I don’t have plans, Mom,” he said. “I--uh”

“Oh.”

Evan looked up into her panicked eyes and blurted out, “Yeah, no. I mean when I said I didn’t have plans I just meant like right now but like I think I have plans next weekend.”

“Oh! Honey, that’s great. With who?”

“Oh, just a guy from school.”

“A guy, eh? Is he cute?” She smacked his leg in delight. “Well, good for you. See, I told you! You just gotta put yourself out there, be yourself, and you’re bound to attract like-minded people!”

Evan nodded and didn’t contradict her. They watched the end of Oprah and they were halfway into “Notting Hill” before Evan gained the courage to speak again. He stared at his hands, saw the half-moons where his nails had gouged his palms. 

“I don’t know why I said that,” he said, closing his eyes. “Mom, I need to tell you something. I need to tell you the truth.”

Heidi gazed at him, mouth ajar. “Okay.”

“I just-- I don’t know how to start--because I’m just so scared--”

“Oh, Evan.”

“--I’m so scared you’ll hate me because I lied to you.” 

He was hyperventilating. 

Then Heidi grabbed him by his arms and hauled him into her lap. He was far too big to be sitting in his Mom’s lap but Evan clung to her sweater, burrowing his face into her shoulder as she stroked his back. 

“Evan. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re my little guy. You’re my son. I will never hate you.”

“You will,” he insisted. “--when you know what I’ve done--what I tried to do.”

“No,” she murmured. “No, I don’t think you have that power. There is nothing you could do to make me stop loving you, buddy.”

Evan sobbed harder. Suddenly the stress of the last few hours broke over him like a tidal wave. Tears he didn’t even know he had left came pouring out. And with them came the unbearable truth. 

“This past summer,” he said. “I didn’t break my arm because I fell out of a tree. I broke it because I wanted to--” He gave a shuddering sigh. “--I wanted to stop being so--I just wanted to stop. Living.”

Heidi held him tighter, so tight that she might meld him back together. “I’m so grateful you told me, Ev. I’m so sorry I didn’t see--that I didn’t realize how bad it all was for you.” Her voice was squeaky, breaking over every word.

“I don’t blame you--I kept it pretty buried.”

Heidi shook her head. “I know you, Evan. I know you. I should have seen it, and I’m sorry, and I am so glad you didn’t--that you’re still here, and I promise you--I promise--there will come a time when all of this seems so far away and so small.”

Evan looked up at her dripping face. Her melting eyes were crinkled, she was smiling as she cried. 

And as she spoke, telling him about that February day long ago, Evan’s heartbeat slowed and his breathing returned to normal. 

And everything he’d been sure was going to hurt so much passed over and through him like a wave. 

He took a deep breath, held it, and then he let it go.


	21. Epilogue: Making This Up As I Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a happy ending.

Early June 2016

 

It wasn’t yet hot enough to turn on the air conditioning, so Dr Sherman had propped open all the windows in her little office overlooking the lake. A humid breeze stirred the curtains, puffing the sheer white fabric up like summer clouds. 

“Well, Evan,” Dr Sherman said, smiling. “Our hour is up. Great job today. Thank you for your letter.”

Evan glanced up. Dr Sherman’s office was a cosy space decorated in warm yellows and reds, the walls were covered with art her wife had brought back from her research trips in Mumbai. On her desk were photographs of their wedding day.   
Dr Sherman stood and moved to her desk and taking her engraved pen began filling out an appointment card. “How does the twenty-third sound? Will you be done classes by then?”

Evan shook his head. “We go right until the twenty-ninth.”

She tapped the pen against her chin. “So we’ll make it an after-school visit, okay?”

“Great,” Evan said, standing and reaching for his jacket. 

Through the window, he saw the light reflect off a car’s windshield as it turned into the parking lot. “I think my ride is here.”

Dr Sherman nodded, smiling slightly. She handed him the card. “Until next time, then.”

Evan nodded, jamming his hands in his pockets and trying to stand up taller. 

 

Evan hurried down the narrow steps and stepped out into the bright parking lot. There were few cars parked--none of them was his Mom’s blue Mazda. Wandering to the little bench next to the gardens, Evan pulled out his phone. 

Sure enough--a text from Mom: On my way! 

He replied: Kk I’m out front. 

Then flipped over to messaging Jared. They had a final due tomorrow and they were supposed to meet tonight and work on it together. Evan was so absorbed in texting his friend he didn’t hear the car door slam. 

Heavy footsteps approached then came to a sudden halt. A dark shape appeared right in front of Evan, blocking the sun. 

He looked up, expecting to find his Mom waiting, but instead found himself caught in the anxious and uncertain gaze of Connor Murphy. 

Evan’s heart thudded painfully. 

He’d seen Connor back at school, tried to say Hi to him in the halls, they’d even eaten lunch together once or twice--well, sat at opposite ends of the same empty table not talking or making eye contact. For someone as anxious as Evan, he considered this great progress. 

“Uh, hi, Connor,” Evan said, still frozen in the act of texting. Jared was replying, message after message, but Evan couldn’t tear his eyes away from Connor. 

“Hey. Evan?”

"Evan."

"Is it....is your name not Evan."

"No, it is! Totally. Sorry, I'm just nervous."

"Join the club."

A long silence stretched between them, neither one brave enough to break it. Then Evan saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. He willed his Mom just to wait--just a minute longer. 

Connor broke eye contact first, glancing at Heidi idling on the curb. 

“That your ride?”

“No,” said Evan. “Well--I mean yeah, but---she can wait..”

Connor gave him a tiny smile. “Okay.”

Evan wished he could say something meaningful--something that would alleviate the thundering in his chest. It seemed whenever he saw Connor, his heart picked up and his brain slowed down. 

They stared at each other a little longer, then Connor said, “Um, so I know this was a while ago but I was wondering if you wanted to, like, hang out or something.”

“Hang out?”

“Well, you said--I mean I think you did--”

“Oh--yeah, no, I remember. I just blanked there for a sec--darn brain!”

Connor grinned and let his hair fall in front of his face. He looked good, Evan noticed, his skin was brighter and when he smiled--which he did more often--you could see the light of it reflected in his sky blue eyes. 

“So, do you want to---”

“Absolutely.” 

“--oh? Really?” Connor sounded breathless. He tucked a strand of hair behind one pink ear. 

“Yes.” Evan sprang into motion. “I mean--I assumed you were going to ask me--”

“Out.”

“Pizza?”

“I like pizza.”

“Me, too.” 

“Great. So it’s a date--er--” Connor’s entire face went tomato red. “I mean, not like a date-date but like a friends thing because I think we’re friends and--”

“You free on Friday?” 

Connor nodded, thankfully. “Can I get your number?”

“Totally.” Evan’s voice was getting squeakier. 

As they swapped phones, Heidi must have reached the end of her motherly patience as she started laying on the horn. It was Evan’s turn to blush. 

“I’m sorry about my Mom.”

From above them, Dr Sherman appeared. She stuck her head out the open window. 

“Is everything okay?” she called. 

Evan grinned and called back. “It’s fine, Dr Sherman, it’s just my Mom.” 

Connor gave a little wave. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Dr Sherman smiled warmly. “Take your time, Connor.”

Evan watched Connor carefully. 

“You’re here for---”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. I mean me, too, so--”

“How long--er--nevermind--”

“She’s great.”

“Yeah. I mean I’ve only been--I mean, my Mom made me--” he faltered. “I’ve been going since September.”

Evan nodded, not wanting to pry. 

“So, Friday?”

“Friday.”

“I mean, like, I’ll still see you at school tomorrow.”

Connor laughed, self consciously. “Oh, right.”

“Don’t skip, okay.”

“No way, Jose”

“Okay...Jose.”

Heidi rolled down her window. “LET’S GO, PLEASE!”

Evan hurried to the car and slid into the front seat. He gave a little wave to Connor, who waved back before they pulled away and Connor slipped inside. 

Heidi smacked Evan’s leg. “So? Who’s that?”

Evan shook his head. “S’just a guy from school.”

“A guy from school, eh?”

“Mom--stop.”

“He’s cute.”

“MOM.”

Heidi laughed and mussed Evan’s hair. 

Evan stared out the window, smiling, his face glowing. Anxiety and excitement were jumping under his skin. 

He felt better than he’d felt in months. Maybe this was going to be a good year after all. 

 

 

END of PART 1


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